The soft morning light filtering through the curtains roused me from sleep. I stretched, my hand reaching out instinctively for Asher, but found his side of the bed empty. Blinking away the last vestiges of sleep, I sat up, scanning the room.
My eyes landed on Asher's figure, silhouetted against the window. He held a delicate crystal glass in his hand, filled with what I assumed was more wine. The sight made me frown slightly.
"Asher?" I called out, my voice still husky from sleep. "Why are you drinking again so early?"
He didn't turn around immediately, but I could see the tension in his shoulders. When he finally spoke, his voice was steady, but there was an undercurrent of something I couldn't quite place.
"Because I'm giving myself courage."
Before I could ask what he meant, Asher turned to face me. He set the wine glass down on a nearby table with deliberate care, then, to my utter shock, lowered himself to one knee beside the bed.
