The sun peeked through the kitchen window.
It was early. Quiet.
Elena opened her eyes first.
She was still on the soft couch in the back lounge, tangled in a warm blanket... and between two warm bodies.
Marco's arm was over her waist.
Talia's fingers rested on her thigh.
For a moment, Elena just lay there, her heart soft and steady.
Everything smelled like leftover wine and fresh skin.
Her lips curled into a lazy smile.
Then Marco stirred.
"Morning," he said, voice rough, half-asleep.
Elena stretched, muscles sore in the best way.
"Hey."
Talia opened one eye.
"If either of you talk too loud, I'm leaving."
Marco laughed.
"That's fair."
They stayed quiet for a while.
Just breathing. Just… being.
But slowly, something shifted.
Talia sat up and pulled her shirt on.
"So… what now?"
Marco blinked.
"What do you mean?"
"I mean—was this just fun?
A one-time thing?"
she asked, trying to sound cool, but her voice had a small crack in it.
Elena looked at her.
"Do you want it to be one time?"
Talia didn't answer right away.
Marco ran a hand through his hair.
"We don't have to figure everything out right now."
"But we will have to figure it out," Talia said softly.
Elena nodded.
"I didn't plan on falling into bed with you two.
But I don't regret it."
Talia glanced at her, eyes softer now.
"Me neither."
Silence again—but this time, it wasn't heavy.
It was careful.
Marco stood and stretched.
"How about we cook breakfast first, talk after?"
Elena grinned.
"Only if there's coffee."
"Strong," Talia said. "Like last night."
They all laughed.
It helped.
For now, things weren't simple.
But they were warm.
And in Rosehill… warmth always led to more heat.