Chapter 22: The Morning After
Sunlight streamed through the unfamiliar window, painting gold stripes across the bed. Elias woke slowly, the warmth of Eleanor beside him more comforting than any luxury his previous life had offered. Her head was pillowed on his chest, one hand curled against his heart as if keeping time with its steady rhythm.
He didn't move, didn't dare breathe too deeply, memorizing the weight of her, the way her hair fanned across his skin. This was the reality he'd fought for—not boardroom victories or financial statements, but this quiet intimacy.
She stirred, her eyes fluttering open. For a moment, disorientation flickered in their green depths, then recognition dawned, followed by a soft, sleepy smile that made his chest ache.
"Good morning," she whispered, her voice husky with sleep.
He brushed a strand of hair from her face, his thumb tracing the curve of her cheek. "Good morning."
They lay there as the city woke around them, listening to the distant sounds of traffic and birdsong. No alarms, no urgent emails, no meetings. Just the slow, sweet unfolding of their first morning together.
"I should make coffee," she murmured, though she made no move to get up.
"I'll do it," he said, pressing a kiss to her forehead before reluctantly slipping out of bed.
The small kitchen felt different now—theirs. He found the coffee beans they'd chosen together, the simple white mugs she'd fallen in love with at a thrift store. As the rich aroma filled the apartment, he felt a profound sense of rightness settle in his bones.
She joined him as the coffee brewed, wrapping her arms around his waist from behind and resting her cheek against his back. "It smells like home," she said.
He turned in her embrace, pulling her close. "It is home."
They took their coffee to the small balcony that overlooked the quiet street below, standing shoulder to shoulder as the morning light warmed their faces. Her pinky finger hooked with his where they rested on the railing—a small, unconscious connection that meant more than any signed contract.
"Today feels... different," she said softly. "Like we're really starting our life."
He looked at her—at the way the sun caught the gold in her hair, at the peaceful curve of her smile—and knew he was exactly where he was meant to be. The driven CEO, the fallen king, the time-traveler—all those versions of himself had been leading to this moment, this ordinary, perfect morning with the woman he loved.
"We are," he said, lifting their joined hands to kiss her knuckles. "And I can't wait for all the mornings to come."