The morning light spilled softly through the curtains, pale and diffused, carrying with it that quiet, wintry stillness where the world outside felt hushed, as though wrapped in frost and distant breath. The air held a faint chill, the kind that lingered even after the night had passed, brushing lightly against the skin before the warmth of the room could chase it away.
Alexander was awake.
He hadn't moved.
His gaze rested on the woman lying beside him, as though the moment itself had stilled him into silence.
Roxana.
Her blonde hair was scattered across his pillow, strands of gold catching the faint light, a stark contrast against the dark sheets that still carried his scent. It was a sight that felt strangely intimate, almost unreal, like something he wasn't meant to witness, yet couldn't bring himself to look away from.
She had fallen asleep the moment they returned.
