The room was quiet, bathed in a pale silver light from the moon filtering through the sheer curtains. The only sounds were the steady rhythm of breathing, yours and his, and the faint rustle of the sheets when either of you shifted in sleep.

You stirred awake slowly, your body warm beneath the soft layers of blankets. The air had a slight chill to it, but you didn’t feel it, not with Julian beside you.

Your arm reached out instinctively across the bed, searching for his familiar warmth. But instead of finding his chest, his arms, or the way he usually curled around you like he couldn’t stand the thought of letting go, your hand met only the soft dip of the mattress and the crumpled sheets.

You blinked, eyes adjusting to the low light. Julian was there, but not where he should be. He was sitting on the edge of the bed, his bare back slightly hunched, shoulders tense. The silhouette of his figure shining as the moonlight hit his pale skin. And you called for him.

He didn’t turn fully, just glanced at you over his shoulder. His expression was hard to read in the dim light, but you caught the faint curve of a smile—gentle, a little sad. Melancholic.

“It’s nothing, my dearest…” he said softly, his voice low and tender. “Go back to sleep.” Julian let out a quiet breath that might have been a laugh, or maybe just a sigh. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”