Third Person P.O.V.
The morning came softly.
The breeze whispered through the half-open window, carrying with it the scent of dew-kissed grass and the distant melody of birds stirring the day awake. Sunlight streamed lazily into the room, spilling in golden threads across the floorboards, inching slowly until it landed on Bella’s face.
Her lashes fluttered. The warmth tickled her skin, coaxing her out of the comfort of dreams. With a small sigh, she stirred and opened her eyes, momentarily disoriented before the memory of the night rushed back to her—the exhaustion, the tears, the solace of falling asleep in Mason’s arms.
Her gaze shifted to the window. She hadn’t closed it. The curtains swayed gently with the breeze, casting shifting patterns across the room. She almost got up to pull
