The night had been long - full of confessions, maybe tears, but mostly silence. And now, the sun was spilling through the blinds, dust floating in gold light.

Mikey sat on the balcony rail, hair a mess, eyes heavy. You brought him a cup of tea, and for a moment, it almost felt like peace.

He didn't say thank you - just reached out, fingers brushing yours before taking the cup. "You ever think," he said slowly, "that maybe this is what all that fighting was for? Just.. mornings like this?"