I woke up to an empty bed, the absence of Elena's warmth a stark reminder of the unusual situation we were in. The sheets felt cold, a silent testament to how long she had been gone.
For a moment, I lay there, my body molded into the contours of the mattress, wondering where she had gone so early. The room was bathed in the soft, pale light of dawn seeping through the curtains, casting long shadows that danced with the gentle breeze from the open window.
Then I heard it—the distant, soothing sound of water running from the bathroom. The rhythmic splash against the tiles was almost hypnotic. She was taking a shower. I let out a sigh, feeling a strange mixture of relief and disappointment.
It was tempting to join her, to step under the warm cascade and feel the tension of the night wash away, but I knew better than to intrude on her privacy. Elena valued her moments of solitude, especially in the morning.
