Author's POV

The room smelled faintly of lemon cleaner and the last of the day’s sunlight slanted through thin curtains, turning dust motes into a slow snowfall. He closed the door behind them and the world contracted to warm walls and the close, ordinary hush of two people needing each other.

They stood for a long moment, breathing the same small air, hands avoiding then seeking. There was no rush in how he touched her, no abruptness, only deliberate, sure movement. He took her face in his palms like it mattered, as if memorizing the planes of her, and she leaned into the hold with the calm certainty of someone finally allowed to rest.