I wake up before Mellow even licks me or taps the door. That's rare. And absolutely a small, ridiculous victory, but it counts.
For a moment I just lie there, staring at the pale strip of dawn bleeding through the gap in my curtains. The air is still cool from the night, and the quiet feels like a rare gift. No muffled paw-steps, no soft whines, no impatient scratching at my door.
My lips curl into a proud smile. I might get to wake her up today.
I swing my legs out of bed and start making it, smoothing the sheets with unnecessary precision. It's barely 6 AM. My hair's a mess, my shirt's wrinkled, but my mood? Golden.
When I open the door, I'm ready to see a still-sleeping Mellow, maybe sprawled out like a lazy lion somewhere in the living room. Instead—
My jaw drops.
Not because I'm still half-asleep. Not because I'm surprised Mellow's awake already. But Mellow is ...
On Noah's back.
