ELARA'S POV
Damien woke early and made breakfast properly, eggs and toast, the kind of effort that meant his hands needed something to do. I came out of the bedroom and found him at the stove and sat at the counter and watched him without saying good morning yet.
He hadn't heard me.
He moved through the kitchen with the ease of someone who'd learned to inhabit a space fully. Two years ago he'd moved through this apartment like he was visiting it. Now he knew where everything was without looking, had opinions about the pan for eggs versus the pan for everything else, made coffee at the strength I liked rather than the strength he preferred.
These were small things.
They were everything.
He turned and saw me and didn't startle.
"You're quiet this morning," he said.
"Watching you cook
