With All My Love
Past
The muted glow of the TV cast soft shadows in the dim room as the voices from the Titanic movie faded into an indistinct murmur. Patrick’s space was a sanctuary from the November chill, the curtains tightly drawn, and a small heater buzzed gently in the corner, a constant, comforting presence. Together on his bed, they lay intertwined under a shared blanket, a cocoon of warmth and whispers. Annabelle rested her head on his chest, breathing a soft, steady rhythm against his skin. His fingers traced absentminded patterns on her back, the simple touch a language all its own. It was four days since his birthday, marking five months of their secret relationship. Under the blanket, in their s
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