She woke a few hours later, still drowsy and quiet, and stayed around for a bit, maybe two hours at most. We sat together in the living room, not saying much, just existing. She spent most of the time leaning on my shoulder, scrolling through her phone while Duchess occupied the far end of the couch like a queen on her throne.
Eventually, Val got up, stretched, and yawned. "I should probably go report to my dad before he sends a search party," she said, in that light, teasing way of hers.
I smiled, even though I knew she wasn't exaggerating. Her father wasn't the type to worry, not in the way normal parents did. For him, she was less of a daughter and more of a delicate asset he needed to keep track of.
She took Duchess with her, saying something about not wanting the cat around when she came back — that she wanted me all to herself.
But I didn't have enough time to miss her.
