Sunday morning, just past ten o'clock.

Light creeping through the gaps in the curtains painted long, thin strips across the sheets. The room was submerged in a lukewarm silence, broken only by the occasional hum of the air conditioner as if it had just remembered to breathe.

At the edge of the bed, Sara was the first to open her eyes.

Beside her lay her lover, curled up. Half-buried in the duvet with hair falling over their face, their breathing was steady, making it obvious they were still deep in sleep.

Without shifting an inch, Sara remained lying on her side, propped up on one elbow, staring intently down at that sleeping face.

Her chestnut eyes narrowed slowly, softening.

Sara's slender fingers hovered in the air for a moment as if hesitating, before finally brushing gently against Guest's hair.

Her fingertips ran from the forehead to behind the ear, combing through the strands. She did it slowly, repeatedly, as if confirming the soft texture of the hair.