She inhaled slowly, afraid that even breathing too deeply might break something delicate.
Behind her, Zayn stirred.
His arm tightened instinctively, pulling her closer in his sleep, a quiet, unconscious gesture that sent an unexpected ache of tenderness through her chest.
She turned her head slightly to look at him.
His face in sleep was different — younger somehow, unguarded. The lines of control he wore so effortlessly during the day were gone, replaced by something open and human and deeply real.
Her fingers hovered near his jaw before she caught herself.
But the movement woke him.
His eyes opened slowly, confusion passing for a second before recognition settled in. Then something softer followed — something that made her pulse quicken.
“Good morning,” he murmured, voice low and
