The soft glow of dawn slipped through the linen curtains, casting pale stripes across the wooden floor like quiet echoes of the night before. Nerina lay curled on her side, the cotton sheets tangled loosely around her legs, her body still humming with the memory of Theo's touch. A gentle soreness pulsed in her thighs, not painful more like a reminder. A tender ache mingled with the slow, stretching peace of morning, rooted deep in her belly.
The bed smelled like them now salt and skin, sweat and citrus. It grounded her. So did the sound of the ocean rolling just beyond the window, rhythmic and unhurried, as if the island breathed in time with her.
Beside her, Theo stirred. His hand drifted across the sheet and landed at the small of her back, warm and steady. She felt his exhale before she heard it, soft against the curve of her shoulder. The moment was so still, so saturated with quiet presence, that it didn't feel like morning. It felt like being paused inside a dream she didn't want to wake from.
Neither of them rushed to speak.
Eventually, Theo's fingers found hers beneath the sheets, curling around them slowly, deliberately. His thumb brushed over her knuckles in a subtle rhythm back and forth, back and forth like a grounding pulse.
"You're still here," Nerina whispered, her voice cracked with sleep and something more fragile.
Theo didn't speak right away. She felt the smile before she saw it slow and unguarded. "Yeah," he said softly, turning onto his side so they were face to face. "Still here."
His dark eyes studied her, not with hunger, but with curiosity, like he was trying to understand something he hadn't expected to find.
The morning outside crept in steadily waves brushing the shore with a low hush, wind rustling through palms, seabirds calling overhead like distant flutes. The room filled with that particular kind of island brightness soft, golden, and heavy with salt. Nerina tucked herself closer to Theo, her bare leg slipping over his. The sheets fell away completely now, baring skin to air. She didn't mind. He didn't look away.
She caught him gazing at her, not just her body but her face, her expression, like he was reading her in silence.
"I'm glad you didn't leave," she said finally, eyes not meeting his but fixed instead on the small rise of his chest as he breathed.
His fingers tightened ever so slightly on hers.
"Neither am I," he murmured.
They lingered in bed longer than necessary. There was no need to move quickly, no schedule to obey. When they did rise, it was with quiet movements brushing against one another, exchanging glances, touches. Theo kissed her shoulder absentmindedly as she pulled on one of his t-shirts. She found herself smiling without meaning to.
Breakfast was simple but warm grilled bread, mango slices, coffee strong enough to jolt the bones awake. Theo moved around the kitchen with a casual familiarity, shirtless, a dish towel over one shoulder. Nerina leaned on the counter, watching him slice fruit, the muscles of his back shifting smoothly beneath his skin.
"You're good at this," she said.
He glanced back, eyebrow raised. "Slicing mango?"
"Making space," she said. "Letting it be easy."
Theo paused, then shrugged, but there was a softness in his eyes. "I don't always," he admitted. "But this… feels like it should be."
Nerina's gaze dropped to the counter, then back to him. "It does," she said.
They ate on the patio, barefoot, the morning sun warming their legs and arms. A lazy breeze ruffled Nerina's hair, and Theo reached out to tuck a strand behind her ear. It was a small gesture, but it made her chest ache unexpectedly.
At one point, she caught him watching her with that same unreadable look from earlier. Their eyes locked. His mouth tugged into a crooked half-smile, and he raised his glass.
"To still mornings," he said, voice low and reverent.
"To still mornings," she repeated, her voice catching slightly.
Later, as they cleared dishes, the mood shifted again subtly, like the change in wind direction before a storm. Theo brushed past her to set something in the sink, his hand lingering on the small of her back. Her skin prickled at the touch.
She turned to face him, but neither of them spoke. The silence stretched, thick and humming. Theo stepped closer, his hand finding her hip. He didn't pull just touched, grounding her again.
"You're really staying the whole week?" she asked quietly, like she already knew the answer.
He nodded. "If you want me to."
Nerina hesitated, but only for a moment. Then she reached up, her fingers resting lightly at the base of his throat. "I do."
Theo's other hand came up to cradle her jaw, thumb grazing her cheekbone. He leaned in, their foreheads brushing. His breath warmed her lips. He kissed her then not hungrily, but deeply. A kiss full of weight and want, yes, but also something unspoken.
When they made love again later that morning, it was different from the night before. Slower, quieter. The sun poured through the window as their bodies met again, bare and open and unhurried. It was the kind of intimacy that didn't need to prove anything just to feel, to stay, to breathe each other in.
The evening breeze carried the scent of salt and blooming flowers, wrapping around them like a gentle invitation. As darkness settled, their hands found each other again, fingers weaving stories only skin could understand. In the quiet sanctuary of the night, they moved as one a rhythm slow and sure, igniting sparks beneath the moon's watchful gaze.