Morning arrived with sunlight and the sound of the door opening.
Arianne woke to the rustle of movement and the low murmur of voices. She had slept through the night, real sleep, deep and restorative, the kind her body had been craving for months. She was tired, but the bone-deep exhaustion of the past days had eased.
Franz was in the chair beside her bed. He was wearing the same clothes from yesterday, rumpled and creased, his hair in disarray, his eyes shadowed. But the smile was there, that same dazed, joyful expression from the delivery room.
"You stayed up all night," she said, her voice rough with sleep.
"I told you I'd watch over both of you."
"You need to sleep."
"I'll sleep later. The twins are here."
