DAMIAN'S POV
The rain began sometime before dawn, soft and persistent, tapping against the windows with a patience that felt deliberate. Emma noticed it the moment she woke—not because of the sound alone, but because of the way it changed the light. The city looked muted through the glass, blurred at the edges, as if someone had taken an eraser to the sharpness of the world. It felt fitting. Some days required softness.
She stayed in bed longer than usual, wrapped in the weight of the blankets, listening. Rain had always done this to her—slowed her thoughts, gave them somewhere gentle to land. Her breathing steadied as she stared at the ceiling, tracing invisible patterns she'd memorized over the last few weeks. This apartment no longer felt unfamiliar. It had crossed that quiet threshold where a place stops being temporary and starts becoming yours.
Eventually, she rose.
