Julian sat on the edge of the mattress, his shirt unbuttoned, his tie discarded on the floor. He hadn't left her side for a second. He was watching her breathe, his eyes tracking the rise and fall of her chest as if he were memorizing the rhythm of her life.
"You're staring again," Amara whispered, her voice a fragile thread in the dark.
Julian reached out, his thumb tracing the line of her jaw with a reverent, shaky touch. "I thought I lost you, Amara. When I saw that shopping bag in the alley... the world just stopped. It wasn't just fear. It was a complete, bone-deep void."
Amara shifted closer, the movement slow, careful, like she was afraid the moment might break if she rushed it. Her fingers found his hand, still warm, still real, and she held onto it a second longer than necessary… just to be sure he was truly there.
Then she lifted it. Gently.
Her lips brushed against his knuckles, soft, almost reverent.
