The air was still when Jude opened his eyes, the weight of the silence almost soothing in its constancy. The forest around the treehouse hummed softly with the usual rhythms, wood creaking, leaves rustling, wind curling around thick branches, but beneath it all, a subtle tension threaded through the morning. It wasn't new. It had been building quietly like pressure under the skin, the kind that you didn't notice until someone touched it and made it hurt.
He rolled to his side, Layla's warmth still lingering in the sheets though she was already gone. Her scent, faint smoke and something sweet like crushed fruit, clung to the pillow. He sat up and rubbed his eyes, scanning the space for movement. Nothing yet. Just the low golden light of morning filtering through the thick canopy, casting lazy shadows on the wooden floor.