Morning arrives without announcement, no alarms, no hurried footsteps in the corridor, no raised voices bleeding through stone, and the absence of those sounds is what wakes me rather than light or movement. I lie still for a few seconds, listening, counting breaths that are not mine, and when I shift slightly I feel Adam beside me, solid and warm, his arm heavy across my waist like an anchor that has decided not to let go.
The bond hums low and even, deeper than it was before, not louder or sharper, just settled, like something that finally found the right place to rest. That steadiness should have comforted me completely. Instead it sharpens my awareness of how quiet everything else feels.
Adam stirs when I move, his fingers tightening briefly against my side before he blinks awake, ey
