Sunlight seeped through the curtains, drawing soft streaks across the marble floor of Hana's condo. The city was already awake below, though up here, the morning felt quiet.
Timothy stirred on the couch, his jacket draped over him like a makeshift blanket. He blinked a few times, adjusting to the light. His phone buzzed quietly beside him, unread messages, meeting reminders, and a dozen missed calls from his executives. He ignored them all for now.
His gaze shifted toward the bedroom door, left slightly open. Hana was still asleep. He could hear her faint breathing, steady but shallow. He had stayed because she asked him to, and because he couldn't bring himself to leave knowing she was still burning with fever last night.
Timothy stood quietly, moving to the kitchen to prepare a glass of water. When he returned to check on her, he found Hana sitting weakly at the edge of the bed, one hand pressed against her temple.
"You're awake," he said softly.
