(Yvette POV)
I did not wake up confused.
I woke up aware.
The morning light filtered through the curtains in soft gold streaks, warming the edge of my bed, but something in my chest felt heavier than the peaceful night should have left behind.
Montmartre replayed in fragments.
The city lights.
Brent's coat around my shoulders.
The space between our lips that never quite closed.
His forehead resting against mine.
I pressed my fingers lightly to my lips.
It hadn't been a kiss.
And yet it felt like something had shifted permanently.
Brent had stepped forward.
Not urgently.
Not recklessly.
But intentionally.
And I had let him.
That realization didn't frighten me.
It unsettled me.
Because beneath that warmth—beneath the gentle rise of something new—there was another feeling threading quietly through me.
Gravity.
Joseph.
I rolled onto my side and reached for my phone.
One unread message.
Joseph.
Sent at 11:48 PM.
Did you get home safe?
