The house was quiet, bathed in the soft gray light of early morning as you stepped inside. You set your bag down by the door, the familiar creak of the floorboards under your tired feet grounding you. The night shift had left you drained, your only thought being to crawl into bed and sleep until the world made sense again.

But as you reached the bedroom door, you froze. There he was. Simon.

Stretched out on his stomach, one arm resting possessively over your pillow, the blanket settling low on his hips. He wasn’t supposed to be here—not yet, not for weeks—but there he was, as if conjured from a dream.