He matched his breaths to hers.

In the middle of the night, when her scent filled the room and her hair fell everywhere, he matched his breathing to hers.

It was so natural, breathing together.

It was so natural, molding his body to hers. Not a piece of paper, not a breath could separate them. They were one then, in the truest sense, when she slept deeply and he held himself awake long enough to marvel, to marvel that he'd lived through hell to be rewarded with this, to hold her in her most vulnerable moments, to love her in the quietest way, to breathe with her, and finally, finally, to fall into sleep and meet her in the land of their dreams.