The light crept in slow — filtered through half-drawn curtains, catching in soft streaks across tangled sheets and scattered clothes.
The air in the room was still, heavy with sleep and something sweeter.
Emily stirred first.
Not from the light — but from the weight of a body pressed lightly against hers.
Lina.
Still curled on her side, hair fanned across the pillow, one arm draped across Emily's stomach. Her breathing was deep, slow. Peaceful.
Emily lay there for a moment, still and quiet, eyes tracing the gentle slope of Lina's nose, the flutter of her lashes.
Her lips curved slightly at the corners, even in sleep — like the ghost of a dream lingered.
She brushed her fingers carefully along Lina's forearm, her touch barely there.
A soft hum left Lina's throat. "You're staring," she murmured, eyes still shut.
Emily smiled. "Can you blame me?"
Lina cracked one eye open, hazy with sleep, voice low and scratchy. "You're not exactly subtle."
