Ember
Sunlight pours across my face, warm and blinding, nudging me gently from sleep. My eyes flutter open, and for a moment, I’m disoriented, until the familiar wooden walls and soft scent of pine and maple drifting through the open window root me in place.
The cabin.
The same one Zaid and I spent those unforgettable ten days in.
I slowly sit up, taking in the room, my hand instinctively resting on the soft sheets beneath me.
“Good morning,” comes that deep, gravel-edged voice I know by heart. My head turns, and there he is—Zaid, lying on his side of the bed, eyes locked on me like I’m the sunrise he’s been waiting for. His arms wrap around my waist without hesitation, pulling me into his chest until I’m sprawled across him, our bodies tangled like we’re afraid to be apart even for
