November 18, 2024 — 10:30 AM
Bohol, Private Beachfront Villa
The morning light streamed through the open shutters, golden and warm against the soft linen sheets. The air smelled faintly of salt, hibiscus, and coffee brewing somewhere in the villa's tiny kitchen.
Angel stirred first, shifting under the covers, her hand instinctively seeking out the familiar warmth beside her. She found it easily—Matthew lying on his back, one arm folded behind his head, the other tangled loosely with hers.
For a few precious seconds, she just stayed like that—half-awake, half-dreaming—listening to the rhythmic sound of the waves outside. No alarms. No urgent reports. No system errors flashing red at three in the morning.
Just breathing.
Matthew cracked an eye open and smiled lazily. "You're staring."
"You're awake."
"Hard not to be when someone's boring holes into me with their laser gaze."
Angel grinned and tucked her face against his shoulder. "Shut up. I'm appreciating the view."
