The sun had just begun to rise, casting a soft gold light through the curtains. Birds chirped gently outside, and a breeze carried in the smell of pine and morning dew.

Mary stirred first.

She blinked slowly, still curled beneath the quilt, and turned her head to see Arthur sleeping beside her. He was sprawled out on his stomach, one arm hanging off the edge of the bed, the other tucked under the pillow. His hair was tousled, his face relaxed in a way she rarely saw—no tension in his brow, no grim line to his mouth. Just… peace.

She smiled, brushing a strand of hair from his face.

He mumbled something in his sleep, shifting slightly. Mary leaned in and kissed his temple, her lips barely grazing his skin.

“You’re even handsome when you snore,” she whispered with a quiet giggle.

Sliding out of bed carefully so she wouldn’t wake him, she wrapped one of his shirts around herself and padded barefoot into the kitchen. She started the coffee, humming softly as she worked. Outside, mist still clung to the grass, and their old dog stretched and yawned on the porch.

By the time Arthur stumbled out of the bedroom, eyes half-open, hair a mess, Mary had two mugs waiting on the table.

“Mornin’, sleepyhead,” she greeted, a grin tugging at her lips.

Arthur rubbed his eyes. “You’re up early.”

“I wanted to see the morning before it ran off.”

He walked over, wrapped his arms around her waist from behind, and pressed his face into her shoulder.

“I’d rather see you,” he mumbled.

She laughed, warm and soft, and leaned back into his embrace.

The world could wait a little longer.