Morning Fractures
The morning broke with a deceptive gentleness.
Sunlight streamed through linen curtains, painting soft gold across the bedroom walls. Isabella stirred awake, feeling the rhythmic pulse beneath her hand her child's heartbeat, steady against her own.
For a fleeting second, she believed everything was normal. The smell of coffee drifted through the house. The sound of waves murmured beyond the terrace.
But the spot beside her in bed was cold.
She sat up slowly, her body heavy from fatigue, and called out, "Sebastian?"
No answer. Only the faint hum of electronics from the next room.
She slipped on a robe and padded barefoot through the hallway. The door to the study stood ajar. Inside, multiple screens glowed cascading strings of numbers and images flickering in rapid succession.
Sebastian sat rigid before them, eyes bloodshot from a sleepless night.
"Sebastian," she said softly. "You haven't moved since dawn."
