Maxwell POV

The morning light spilled across the bedroom floor in soft gold, illuminating the delicate curve of her shoulder where the sheet had slipped away. Amelia was still asleep, her breathing slow and even, her hair a tangle against the pillow. For a moment, I simply stood there and watched her. My chest tightened in a way I hadn’t felt in years—like something fragile and alive had sprouted there overnight.

I couldn’t keep running from this. I’d spent too long denying what she ...