ZURI

The room was quiet except for the steady rhythm of his breathing. The moonlight poured through the half-open curtains, painting his skin in shades of silver and warmth. I lay there beside him, watching the slow rise and fall of his chest. The air felt still, heavy with the kind of peace that only came after long storms.

For a while, I didn’t move. I only looked. His hair had dried unevenly, the strands curling at the ends where they brushed his cheek. I traced his jawline with my eyes, ...