The morning light didn’t rush. It moved gently, brushing across the curtains, slipping past the edges of the blinds, spilling gold over the apartment. Violet stretched under the warmth, letting her body wake without urgency. Bryan was already awake, leaning back in bed with a tablet in hand, absently scrolling, his bare feet brushing the sheets. She watched him for a moment, marveling at how ordinary he looked, how real and how safe.

He glanced up, catching her stare. “Good morning,” he said, voice low, playful, unhurried.

“Morning,” she replied, voice thick with sleep. “You’re awake early.”

“Morning thoughts.” He smirked. “You know, planning the world’s salvation before coffee is…...