Chapter 58: Morning Light and Lavender

The first thing Amelia felt was warmth. Not sunlight exactly, but the weight of a handmade quilt, the softness of clean sheets, and the faint scent of lavender hanging in the air. For a long moment, she didn’t move. She just lay there, blinking up at the pale ceiling, her mind slowly surfacing from sleep like a swimmer rising toward light. Then she saw the clock. Her breath caught. “Nine twelve?” She shot upright in the small bed, eyes wide as panic rushed in. She never slept in — never like this. Not past nine. Not ever. She scrambled out from under the quilt, bare feet touching the wooden floor. The soft hum of quiet stretched around her. No clatter of plates. No chatter or forks scraping plates. No morning diner bustle. Her heart thudded. She was still at the diner. In the little