Monday morning came fast.
Too fast.
It always did when the weekend had been kind.
I was half-aware of it before I opened my eyes—the faint shift of weight beside me, the familiar warmth moving closer, fingers brushing my jaw with deliberate patience. Val never rushed mornings unless she had to. When she did this, slow and teasing, it meant she wanted me awake without actually saying it.
"Kai," she murmured softly.
I groaned, turning my face into the pillow. "It's illegal to sound that awake on a Monday."
She laughed, low and quiet, the sound right by my ear. "It's already six forty."
"That's not helping your case."
Her fingers traced my cheek again. "You said that yesterday. And the day before."
"Consistency is important," I muttered.
She leaned over me, and a second later her hair fell forward, brushing my face. I opened one eye just in time to see her smiling down at me, fully awake, fully dressed from the shoulders up—meaning she'd already been up for a while.
