The first thing Ella felt when she stirred was warmth.
A gentle, steady heat pressed against her back. Strong arms wrapped around her waist, holding her close. For a moment, she didn't move—didn't breathe. Her mind scrambled for the details of where she was, her body tensing on instinct. But then she felt it: the soft inhale and exhale of someone behind her, the low rhythm of a heartbeat against her spine.
Nicholas.
She exhaled slowly, her muscles relaxing one by one.
He was still here.
Her memories came back in fragments—her nightmare, waking up in a panic, the way he'd held her until the trembling stopped. He hadn't let go. He hadn't run. He hadn't treated her like she was broken.
Her fingers curled around the edge of the blanket as she shifted slightly, just enough to turn in his arms.
Nicholas stirred, eyes fluttering open. Their gazes met in the quiet morning light.
His voice came out low and sleep-rough. "Morning."
