(Michelle Lui's POV)
Monday mornings usually feel like someone threw a bucket of ice water on my soul.
Today?
It was… soft.
The kind of morning where the cold air didn't sting — it nudged.
Where sunlight filtered through my curtains like it was peeking in, checking on me.
Where waking up meant replaying a certain conversation from last night and pressing my face into my pillow with a muffled groan.
I stared at the ceiling, heart embarrassingly fluttery.
Tuesday.
He'll see me Tuesday before physics.
Just thinking it sent my stomach tumbling in a stupid little somersault — the kind that made me want to roll off the bed and evaporate.
I sat up with a sigh.
"Get a grip, Michelle."
No grip was gotten.
--
(Breakfast — Dad's Suspicious Staring Contest)
Mom smiled the moment I entered the kitchen — not subtly, not gently — but with the full force of a woman who has been waiting to tease me for 12 hours straight.
"Good morning, my glowing daughter."
