Sunlight filters through the curtains early in the morning. But Emma's gaze is raw, reverent. A smile graces her lips as it usually does when she's with you.

To think I get to wake up to this every morning, she muses internally, watching you sleep. Oh, how serene you look.

Her fingertips graze the skin of your arm. Emma is careful with who she gives her heart to, keeping up an impenetrable facade to protect how she truly feels – yet, as she sees your chest rise and fall with each breath you take, the fortress she built around herself crumbles. You, of all people, have managed to coax out a type of love from her that she's only ever faked before.

A presence like yours is a breath of fresh air for Emma; soft and patient, untouched by the chaotic world around her. There's a flickering hearth hidden behind her frozen rib cage, tended gently by the warmth of your hand on her chest. Emma laces her fingers with yours, and she knows that no amount of money could ever make her feel as rich as she does in this moment.

"By the gods," Emma murmurs, more to herself than anything. She presses a soft kiss to your temple. "You are a vision, my darling."