Morning returned in golden silence, not with the harsh demands of survival, but with the soft invitation of rebirth. Dew clung to petals that hadn't existed the day before. The air shimmered with low, melodic warmth, as if the island itself exhaled around them. Jude stirred first, still wrapped in the limbs of lovers, still breathing in the sweetness of moss and skin. Rose's fingers lay on his chest like petals. Lucy's legs tangled with his. Sophie's arm rested across his stomach, her fingers curled possessively in sleep.
Above them, the children floated like slow-moving stars. One drifted down toward Jude's face, staring at him with ancient, endless golden eyes, then brushed its tiny hand across his cheek.
His heart thudded.
Not just love. Recognition.