The morning arrived without ceremony, and Lena noticed how little she needed it to announce itself anymore. There was a time when she measured days by their intensity by what demanded attention, what disrupted her equilibrium, what promised transformation. Now, the day simply opened, and she stepped into it.She woke to the low hum of the city already in motion, a sound she’d once associated with pressure. Today, it felt like accompaniment. She lay still, hands resting loosely on her stomach, and listened. The hum didn’t rush her. It didn’t instruct. It just existed.That, she thought, might be the quiet miracle of continuity.Eli stirred beside her, half-asleep, reaching out in an instinctive gesture that found her arm. He didn’t pull her closer. He didn’t hold on. His hand rested there for a moment, then relaxed.She smiled in the dim light.This, too, was a form of trust.They moved through the early hours with practiced ease. Breakfast came together without planning. Conversation
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