Chapter 45 - The Morning Belongs to Us
The first morning of high summer broke over Coyoacán with an absolute, breathtaking clarity. The sky was a vast, unblemished sheet of robin’s-egg blue, and the morning sun warmed the terracotta roof tiles of our home and the academy.
I woke up naturally just as the first golden rays filtered through the sheer curtains of my bedroom window. Slipping quietly out of bed, I pulled on a light cotton sweater and walked out onto the second-story veranda, holding a warm ceramic mug of green tea.
The courtyard below was silent and peaceful, the remnants of yesterday's work neatly cleared away, leaving only the clean, honest stone of the courtyard floor and the patient wooden frames of the looms waiting for the morning shift.
The road behind us had been long, forged through betrayal, corporate espionage, and institutional corruption, but the road stretching out ahead was wide, open, and illuminated by the brilliant, unbroken promise of tomorrow.
There were no more secrets to hide. No more enemies lurking in the dark.
There was only the warmth of an honest home, the unwavering strength of true love, and the brilliant, unending horizon stretching out infinitely before us.
Mateo stepped out onto the veranda a moment later, holding his own mug of coffee. He walked up behind me, wrapping his arms around my waist, resting his chin on my shoulder as we watched the sun climb higher into the sky.
"Ready for what comes next?" he whispered softly against my ear.
May you like
"Always," I smiled, leaning back against his chest.
The morning—and every tomorrow that followed—belonged entirely to us.
