The morning light filtered softly through the curtains, casting warm, golden hues across the room. I laid there, cocooned in the sheets, acutely aware of how perfectly at peace I felt.
Lydia was still in a deep slumber beside me, her chest rising and falling rhythmically, her hair splayed like a dark halo against the pillows.
A sense of warmth flooded through me as I traced her features with my gaze, every inch of her the embodiment of cherished moments and the assurance of what we had forged together.
But that tranquility was soon disrupted by a sharp knock at the door. My heart raced, not out of fear, but with the urgency that something someone needed my attention.
I carefully disentangled myself from the sheets, glancing once more at Lydia to ensure she remained undisturbed. My instinct told me to protect this moment, to keep everything sacred and still, but duty clawed at me.
