Chapter 16: Wrapped in Morning’s Warmth

[Margaret’s POV] When I opened my eyes, the first thing I noticed was the soft glow of sunlight filtering through the curtains, casting golden streaks across the room. My gaze shifted, and there he was—Donald, lying peacefully beside me. It felt... different. New. His arm was draped over my waist, warm and secure, while my hand rested gently on his solid chest, rising and falling with every steady breath he took. His face was so close, his tall, elegant nose casting a faint shadow. I lingered on his features—his strong jawline, slightly tousled hair, and then his eyes. He had opened them, revealing that familiar gaze that seemed to see only me. “Morning, Margaret,” he murmured, his voice deep and husky, still laced with the softness of sleep. “Morning, Donald,” I replied, my voice equally quiet, as though speaking louder might shatter the fragile intimacy of the moment. There was something sacred about mornings like these—slow, indulgent, and filled with unspoken promises. But rea