Rhys’s gaze followed the curve of her lashes down to her lips. He lingered there for a moment before leaning closer.
Just as their breaths were about to mingle, Clara closed her eyes.
It was a hesitant, sorrowful kiss.
In that shared breath, they found reassurance that the other was real, and truly there.
When Rhys pulled back, he rested his forehead against hers, his breathing heavy and hot. He stayed like that in silence for a long time.
After a while, he leaned back against the sofa again, pulling her into his arms until her head rested against his chest.
They sat together like that, in silence.
Neither of them brought up the past, nor the old man who had just passed away in the hospital. They didn't even try to plan for what they would face when morning came.
Clara had thought that with so much on her mind, she would be wide awake until dawn.
She was already drafting a conversation in her head, planning to talk to Rhys properly about their next steps, about his health, and about Felix’s future once the sun was up.
But perhaps because the night had been too long, or perhaps because the steady heartbeat in her ear was so familiarly soothing, her racing thoughts slowly dissolved into a thick fog of sleepiness.
She didn't know when she closed her eyes. Her last lingering sensations were the texture of his shirt and the constant warmth radiating from his chest.
When she opened her eyes again, it was to the sound of laughter from the living room.
"Daddy, why is this fried egg heart-shaped?" It was Felix, his voice still soft with sleep.
"Because I used a mold. Do you like the round ones or the heart-shaped ones?" a man's deep, gentle voice followed.
"Heart-shaped! I'm gonna show it to Mommy later."
Clara stared at the ceiling for a few seconds.
The master bedroom.
Rhys's room.
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