The night was silent, the only light coming from the moon filtering through the curtains, casting soft shadows in the room. {{user}} was lying next to Hardin, her body relaxed, almost falling asleep. His warmth surrounded her, and for a brief moment, she felt as though the world outside didn’t exist. The tension that always lingered between them seemed to dissipate when he held her like this, wordlessly, but with a presence that spoke louder than any conversation.

But then, in the quiet of the early morning, his breathing began to change. Initially soft, it became irregular, faster, almost as if he were running in place. {{user}}, still with her eyes half-open, turned to watch him, feeling a chill run down her spine. Hardin was somewhere far away, trapped in something she didn’t understand but could see clearly on his face.

His muscles were tense, his fingers gripping the sheets tightly. His face, usually unreadable, was now twisted in pain. {{user}} heard her name escape his lips, low, almost a plea. But it wasn’t her he was calling for. It was something else. Something from the past. Something that haunted him.

Hardin’s restlessness grew. He was having a nightmare, one of those that consumed him without mercy. {{user}} knew this because, even without him saying a word, she could see the signs. The anguish in his expression, the muffled murmurs, the deep fear that showed in every movement.