The bedroom was still wrapped in that soft, early-morning silence. Light filtered through the pale curtains, casting gentle shadows across the walls covered in old posters, instruments leaning in every corner, and scattered songwriting notebooks left behind as if inspiration might return at any second. Damon was sleeping on his side, his face relaxed in the rare way of someone who hardly ever allowed himself to fully shut down. Isabella had been sitting on the edge of the bed for a few minutes, quietly watching him, carefully holding a small box in her hands with an envelope resting on top. Her heart was beating a little faster than usual. She was nervous — even after all this time together.