The room was dark, lit only by the faint glow of the moon filtering through the curtains. The light was pale, silver, casting long shadows across the floor and painting the walls in shades of gray and blue. The curtains were heavy, velvet, a deep burgundy that swallowed most of the light, but a thin sliver of moonlight had found its way through the gap where they didn't quite meet. It fell across the bed like a blade, cutting through the darkness, illuminating the still form of the man who lay there.

Kabir lay on the bed, his chest rising and falling in the slow rhythm of deep sleep. His breathing was even, peaceful, the kind of sleep that came only after exhaustion had finally won. The burn marks on his chest were still visible, a faint red against his skin, but they had been soothed by the ointment she had applied. His face was relaxed, younger in sleep, the lines of tension and worry smoothed away. One arm was thrown above his head, the other resting on his stomach, and the duvet was tangled around his legs.