DAMIAN'S POV
rain did not stop overnight.It softened instead, thinning into a steady rhythm against the glass, as if the city itself had decided to breathe more quietly. Morning arrived wrapped in gray, the kind of light that erased sharp edges and replaced them with possibility. Emma woke to the sound of it, half-aware, half-dreaming, her mind drifting between rest and intention.
She lay still for a while, listening.
Damian was awake beside her. She could tell by the subtle change in his breathing, by the way his arm rested more deliberately around her waist now, protective without pressure. He had always been a man who noticed transitions—the moment before action, the pause before impact.
"You're thinking loudly," he murmured.
She smiled into the pillow. "I didn't know I did that."
"You don't," he said. "But I know you."
