The next morning came slowly. The sun was rising, but its warmth did not reach the snow-covered inn or the two people tangled in the bed inside.
Ivan and Lydia woke up in each other's arms. Neither of them said a word. The room was quiet, filled only with the sound of soft breathing and the faint wind outside. They stayed still for a few moments, their bodies close, hearts beating quietly next to each other.
There were no kisses. No smiles. Just silence. The kind that holds more words than any conversation ever could.
Ivan opened his eyes first. He looked at her, at the way her head rested gently on his chest. Her lashes were still wet from the tears she had cried the night before. She had fallen asleep in his arms after everything. He had held her until her breathing slowed.
Now, she opened her eyes too. They looked at each other — not long — just long enough to understand that neither had slept well.
