woke early, sunlight slipping between the blinds and touching the floor in thin, golden stripes. The quiet in the apartment felt almost sacred. I drank my coffee slowly, listening to Julian stirring in the kitchen.

“You’re nervous,” he said, appearing in the doorway with his cup in hand. His voice was calm, steady, the way it always pulled me back when my mind raced.

“I’m not sure I’m nervous,” I said, trying to sound confident. “I just… want it to feel right.”

Julian smiled ...