The room was quiet.
Only their breathing filled the space; slow, uneven, and soft against the still air.
The curtains swayed gently with the wind, carrying the faint scent of rain through the half-open window.
Donald lay on his side, watching Grace in silence. Her hair was scattered across the pillow, her skin faintly flushed, her lips trembling as though she wanted to speak but couldn't find the words.
He reached out, brushing a loose strand from her face.
"Are you okay?" he whispered, his voice low, rough with emotion.
Grace nodded, her eyes glistening in the dim light. "I'm fine," she said softly, but her heart wasn't still.
Inside her chest, it was chaos, guilt, fear, and something new she couldn't quite name. Vulnerability.
She had never let anyone in like this before. And now, after giving herself to Donald, all she could think about was the truth she had been hiding.
Donald smiled faintly. "You look lost," he said, tracing his thumb over her knuckles.
