Joanne stirred slowly, eyes fluttering open to the soft morning light washing over the room. Jeffrey lay beside her, his arm still resting protectively around her waist. Her lips curved into a sleepy smile.
She could live like this forever.
The warmth of his body beside hers, the quiet safety of his presence—it was the kind of peace she never thought she'd have. But lately, even in this calm, fatigue tugged at her constantly. She watched the sunlight spill across his face, softening his features, before her heavy eyelids pulled her back into sleep.
It wasn't long before she felt a gentle touch, feather-light on her shoulder.
"Jo…" Jeffrey's voice was low, reverent. He was always careful not to startle her.
She forced her eyes open, though it was still hard to fully wake. But when she saw the tray of breakfast in his hands—and the familiar steam rising from a mug of coffee—her heart warmed.
"You made coffee?" she asked, surprised. He was usually strict about her resting.
