The soft morning light filtered through the curtains in faint streaks, brushing golden against the edges of the bed as Eleanora stirred in her sleep.
Her lashes fluttered open slowly, adjusting to the pale light, her body reluctant to leave the cocoon of warmth she'd sunk into during the night.
It was warm.
Unusually warm.
Her fingers flexed against the blankets as she shifted, and for the first time in what felt like days, there was no sharp jolt of pain across her shoulder—only a dull ache, faint and bearable.
Her brow furrowed slightly at the realization.
The cold that usually wrapped around her with every movement was gone, replaced by something gentler… something comforting.
Her hand drifted across the bed, searching instinctively—and halted.
The space beside her was empty.
But still—warm.
