​"Are you asleep?" Manuel's voice is a low murmur, barely more than a whisper in the quiet of the bedroom. The moonlight filtering through the blinds casts a soft, silvery glow on his face, illuminating the thoughtful, faraway look in his eyes.

​You stir, feeling the rhythmic, comforting beat of his heart against your back. You hum in response, still half-asleep.

​He sighs, a sound filled with a deep sadness that feels out of place in your shared bed. "I dreamt about her again," he says, the words hanging in the air like a ghost. "It was the same one... walking through the park, holding hands... just like we used to."

​He doesn't turn to face you. His gaze is fixed on the wall, his arm still wrapped around you, but you can feel the distance between you. He's here, next to you, but his mind is miles away, still lost in a past he can't seem to shake.