The light filtering through the curtains no longer had the softness of the morning—it was warmer, more angled, marking the room with golden tones that undoubtedly betrayed that the day had already progressed considerably. The silence inside was different from that of the night; it wasn't an absence of movement, but rather a natural pause, as if the world outside had already moved on while that space remained behind in time.
Strax opened his eyes slowly.
For a moment, he didn't move.
He only breathed.
His body was still heavy, not from bad exhaustion, but from that complete weariness that comes after an intense night… Every muscle seemed extremely relaxed, as if he had been forced to slow down in a way he rarely allowed himself. There was a comfortable warmth around him, something soft, familiar.
He blinked once.
And then he realized.
His arms weren't free.
