Lullaby by Morning

Chapter 21: One year on

Rain pattered against the loft windows, a gentle echo of that first Friday storm. Mara stirred cream into her coffee, watching Eli at the kitchen island, his pencil dancing across a sketchpad. The page filled with her silhouette—hair tousled from sleep, mug steaming in her hands. Their new home, a sun-drenched space above his expanded studio, felt like the perfect bridge between city pulse and quiet dreams. Canvases lined the walls, sheet music draped the piano; every corner hummed with their shared rhythm.

"It's our anniversary," Eli said, sliding the sketch toward her. "And you're more beautiful than the first draft."

Mara laughed, tracing the lines. "You always see the light I miss." They danced then, slow and barefoot, to the crackle of Etta James on the record player. Pancakes sizzled unevenly on the griddle—her specialty, his patient indulgence. As they ate, her hand rested on her abdomen, a secret blooming between them: their first child, confirmed just days ago. "A new melody," she whispered. Eli's eyes lit with wonder, pulling her close. "Our lullaby, starting over."

Across the coast, Kyle tuned his guitar on the bookstore balcony, waves crashing below. *Echoes Live*, his latest release, topped coastal charts—raw recordings from harbor nights, one track dedicated to "friends who found their tide." Fans dissected the lyrics online; Mara texted: *Haunting. Miss our jams.* He replied: *Someday soon.* Success wrapped him now—tours booked, a manager calling daily—but peace came from release, not possession. He strummed a new riff, sea salt on his strings, grateful for the shore she'd left him stronger on.

That night, Mara and Eli lay tangled in sheets, rain lulling them. "One year," she murmured. "Feels like the beginning again." Eli kissed her temple. "Every morning is." Their hands met over the secret growing between them, hearts synced in quiet promise.