The next morning, Ryan woke with the kind of clarity that only came after a night of refusing to sleep properly.
Not because he couldn’t sleep.
Because he didn’t trust sleep anymore.
Sleep was when your guard dropped. Sleep was when you missed calls. Sleep was when things happened to people and you found out too late.
Eve was still in bed when he got up, turned toward the other side, one hand resting over the curve of her stomach like her body had decided protection could become habit. Even in sleep, there was a faint tension in her brow, like peace was something she still had to negotiate for.
Ryan stood at the foot of the bed for a moment, looking at her.
He didn’t touch her.
He didn’t wake her.
He just watched her breathe until his chest eased by a fraction.
Then he left the ro
