Iris
Sunlight streams through my partially open curtains, painting warm stripes across the tangled white sheets. I wake slowly, my body pleasantly sore in ways I haven’t felt in years. An arm is draped heavily across my waist, and for a moment, I’m disoriented—and then the memories of last night come flooding back.
Arthur. The museum. Dancing in the rotunda. And then...
I shift slightly, turning to look at the man sleeping beside me.
My heart swells with a tenderness I’ve been trying to suppress for so long. Last night felt like coming home—like finding a piece of myself I didn’t even realize was missing until it slotted back into place.
Arthur stirs, his arm tightening around me. Slowly, his green eyes flutter open. They find mine immediately.
“Hey,” he murmurs. H
