The morning sun spilled through the floor-length windows of the cliffside villa, bathing everything in golden light. Somewhere outside, waves crashed softly against the rocks below, and tropical birds called to each other in the distance. The entire space felt like something out of a postcard—picturesque, warm, and wrapped in a kind of tranquility that could only exist this far removed from reality.
Darius stirred first.
Still shirtless, he turned onto his side, watching Yuna as she lay curled beside him under the thin linen sheet. Her hair was a tangle of soft waves, one arm stretched across the pillow, the other clutched to the fabric bunched near her chest. The neckline of her nightdress had shifted during the night, revealing the delicate slope of her shoulder and the faintest hint of cleavage.
He couldn't help but admire her—not like a fan, but like a man who knew the rhythm of her breathing, the tilt of her smile, and the storm she could summon with a look.
