They didn't wake up transformed.The morning after the patio was just a morning. Coffee. Sunlight. The ordinary sounds of the house settling, the creak of the floorboards, the hum of the refrigerator, a bird tapping at the window. But something had shifted. Not loud. Not dramatic. Just there. Like a door that had been stuck for months finally swinging open on its own.Maya made breakfast. Eggs. Toast. The coffee Ethan had already started. She moved around the kitchen without thinking, the way she used to, the way she'd forgotten. He sat at the table, watching her, not hovering, just present.When she brought the plates over, he stood up to help her sit. She laughed.“You don't have to pull out my chair.”“I want to.”“It's Tuesday.”“So?”She shook her head, still smiling. “You're ridiculous.”“You love it.”She looked at him. “I do.”They ate at the table. Not the couch. Not the counter. The table. Together. The same table where they'd eaten thousands of meals, where they'd sat in si
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