Morning light filters through the curtains like liquid gold. I wake slowly, wrapped in warmth that feels unfamiliar in the best way. The sheets smell faintly of cedar and him.

For a long moment, I just lie there — listening to the quiet rhythm of Roman’s breathing beside me. It’s steady, grounding, the kind of peace I’d almost forgotten existed.

His arm is draped around my waist, heavy and protective. The weight of it anchors me. I turn slightly, my gaze tracing the sharp line of his ...