The following morning, the pale light of dawn entered the room through the gaps between velvet curtains of the room. Damian stirred awake only to find a slight pressure against his side. As he emerged from the fog of sleep, he realized a slender hand was draped across his waist, holding him with a subconscious trust.
He tilted his head and found Eilika's face mere inches from his chest. She was still lost in a deep slumber.
'When did she move to this side?' he wondered silently. He remained still for a heartbeat, watching her, before carefully lifting her hand and setting it aside.
Propping himself up on one elbow, he noticed a few stray hair strands clinging to her cheek. With a gentleness he rarely permitted himself, he brushed them away before quietly slipping out from under the duvet.
As he was sliding into his slippers, he heard the frantic voice of his son.
"Father! Father!"
