Amara didn't sleep.
Not even for a moment.
The night stretched endlessly, heavy and suffocating, as though time itself had slowed out of respect… or perhaps grief. She sat on the cold floor, her back against the bed, her knees drawn close to her chest, her fingers curled tightly into the fabric of her dress like it was the only thing anchoring her to reality.
Julian never left.
He stayed right there beside her, silent, steady, his presence a quiet kind of strength. At some point, he had sat down next to her, his shoulder brushing hers, his hand resting lightly over her clenched fists.
"I'm here," he murmured softly at one point, his voice low, careful, as anything louder might break her. "As long as you need me."
Amara didn't answer. She wasn't sure she could.
Her throat felt tight, her chest hollow and unbearably full at the same time. She just leaned slightly into him, barely noticeable, but enough. And Julian noticed. He always did.
Hours passed like that.
