The morning sunlight spilled across the sheets, gilding Aria's hair in soft gold. Luca stirred beside her, his eyes half open, his body instinctively moving closer though his mind still struggled to catch up. For weeks now, their lives had been a quiet repetition of rediscovery: small smiles, accidental touches, long silences that hummed with something unspoken.
This morning, however, was different. Aria felt it before he even spoke.
He turned on his side, watching her carefully. "You said we used to fight a lot," he murmured, voice scratchy from sleep. "About what?"
She smiled faintly, keeping her voice soft. "Mostly about control. You liked it. I didn't."
His lips twitched, an almost-smile. "Doesn't sound like me."
"Oh, it was you," she teased gently. "You once told me love wasn't about equality; it was about survival."
He frowned, fingers tracing the edge of the blanket. "And you stayed?"
