#Chapter 104: Growing Pains & Coffee Stains

Iris Sunlight streams through my partially open curtains, painting warm stripes across the tangled white sheets. I wake slowly, my body pleasantly sore in ways I haven’t felt in years. An arm is draped heavily across my waist, and for a moment, I’m disoriented—and then the memories of last night come flooding back. Arthur. The museum. Dancing in the rotunda. And then... I shift slightly, turning to look at the man sleeping beside me. My heart swells with a tenderness I’ve been trying to suppress for so long. Last night felt like coming home—like finding a piece of myself I didn’t even realize was missing until it slotted back into place. Arthur stirs, his arm tightening around me. Slowly, his green eyes flutter open. They find mine immediately. “Hey,” he murmurs. His voice is deliciously rough from sleep, a sound that I have to admit I’ve missed sorely over the past five years. Right now, every part of me hopes to hear it as often as possible, even