EMMA'S POV
The rain began sometime after midnight, not sudden but deliberate, tapping first against the windows before settling into a steady rhythm that wrapped the city in sound. Emma woke to it, the soft percussion threading through her thoughts before she was fully conscious. For a moment, she lay still, listening—not just to the rain, but to the quiet presence beside her. Damian was awake too; she could feel it in the way his breathing had shifted, slower and more deliberate, as if he were listening for something beyond the storm.
Neither of them spoke.
The room was dim, the only light the pale glow from the streetlamps filtering through the curtains. Emma rolled onto her side, facing him. His eyes were open, reflecting the faint shimmer from outside, alert in a way that made her wonder how long he'd been awake.
"You okay?" she whispered.
He nodded once, then hesitated. "Thinking."
"About?"
"Tomorrow," he said. "And the day after that. And the ones we don't plan for."
