*Runze's POV*
Something moves.
I wake slowly, my mind still buried somewhere between sleep and consciousness. For a few seconds, I don't open my eyes.
The room is quiet. The curtains are drawn, leaving only a thin line of morning light across the floor. Warmth surrounds me from behind, familiar and steady, while an arm remains securely wrapped around my waist.
Then another movement stirs beneath my palm.
I rest my hand over the curve of my stomach, waiting. A small, distinct shift ripples beneath my skin. It isn't painful, nor is it particularly strong, but it is more than enough to bring an automatic, sleepy smile to my lips.
It is a quiet, reassuring reminder that I am no longer waking up alone in my own body, that our child is alive, growing, and stirring in the warm comfort of the morning.
