Chapter 43

Morning came without urgency. Light was soft and delicate and entered the room like permission was asking for it, sliding along the edge of the bed and the curtain before it landed in front of us. It was light that wasn’t asking questions.

No alarms. No expectations.

I lay there still for a long time, listening to Dante breathe beside me. Slow. Controlled. Awake. He never closed his eyes, which is to say, he was awake before me.

It wasn't restlessness. It was vigilance which had become so ingrained as to look like it wasn't an effort at all. He never once hesitated in his breathing.

Even in slumber, he used the space intentionally, like a man who had realized, as an early child, that unconsciousness was a danger. My body felt heavy, not from injury, but from that same kind of heavy after intensification.

A deep soreness lay numb beneath my skin: dry, warm, and throbbing. The warmth was slow, opening as I shifted, duller and slower. It made me think of last night, but it didn’t hu