Ava’s POV The morning light felt softer today, like the penthouse itself was trying to hold onto the warmth we had built between us. I lay curled against Ethan’s chest, his arm heavy and protective around my waist, his hand resting on the curve of my belly where the baby had been kicking lazily for the last hour. His breathing was slow and even, the kind of deep sleep that only came after the kind of night we had shared. I traced a finger along the line of his collarbone, feeling the steady beat of his heart under my palm, and tried to let the rhythm calm the unease that had been sitting in my chest since yesterday. He stirred, eyes opening slowly, and the first thing he did was smile. That small, private smile that was only for me. “Morning, baby,” he murmured, voice still husky from sleep. He leaned down and kissed my forehead, then my nose, then my lips, slow and lingering like he had all the time in the world. His hand spread wider over my belly, thumb stroking gently as the baby
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