She lays still when he moves, so he doesn't wake up, doesn't disturb him any further. He was so peaceful when he slept - like all the troubles drifted off his features, his weight settled comfortably into the bed and against her. Doesn't even dare to breathe, in case she wakes him up. That would truly be her greatest sin if she unsettled him from a peaceful sleep.

Then when she's sure she won't disturb him, she shifts in, nuzzling against his shoulder as she takes slow breaths on her parched throat from how long and how hard she cried the night before.

Didn't want to get up and face the day, didn't want to face anyone at all. Just wanted to stay right here for as long as he was still there. Arranging herself to drape over his shoulder, lean into his neck, settling the blankets to wrap them both up comfortably. Just tracing her fingers back and forth on the top of the blanket as she contemplated... nothing much at all.

Grief was strange like that. Some point, where she had felt so much, she no longer could feel anything at all. Just a million miles away and ten feet underwater.

But his heart was still beating, and for that, she could be grateful.