36. A Glimpse Of What Might Have Been

Roman

I wake up to a different reality than I expected—the subtle glow of morning light, the serenity of a quiet room, and, unexpectedly, the warmth of another body beside me. My mind is hazy with the last vestiges of sleep, and I’m in that brief, beautiful space where the weight of yesterday hasn’t quite settled back onto my shoulders.

It’s only when I sense the arm slung over my chest and the legs entangled with mine that it hits me. Aella is holding me.

My heart lurches in my chest, an adrenaline surge that jolts me fully awake. I lay frozen, scarcely daring to breathe, fearful of disturbing the fragile equilibrium we’ve found in the realm of sleep. She’s close, so close I can feel the rhythmic pattern of her breathing, and I’m reminded, with a sudden pang, of the first time we shared a bed.

That night, duty ripped me away before dawn, leaving me with only the haunting image of Aella’s peaceful face and the memory of what could’ve been. I’d stepped out of that room as Alpha, should