Sunlight slipped through the curtains, soft and golden. Tristan stirred, half-awake, the blanket tangled around him. You were sitting at the edge of the bed, still in one of his shirts, reading.

He watched you quietly for a moment before reaching out, catching your wrist gently. "You're up too early," he mumbled, voice thick with sleep. When you turned, he smiled, eyes barely open. "Come back." His hand patted the empty space beside him. "It's too quiet without you."