I woke up slow, but not broken. The kind of morning where the air smelled like leftover soup and someone else's shampoo. Mara was still half asleep beside me, hair fanned across the pillow, mouth soft, one hand resting on my chest like she'd called dibs during the night. For a few seconds I forgot the world had sharp edges. Then the ceiling fan clicked, the city hummed beyond the window, and I remembered who I was—someone luckier than smart.
I eased out from under her arm, found my jeans, and tried not to wake her. She stirred once, murmured something about coffee, then went still again. My band pulsed once—quiet, content, smug."Yeah," I whispered. "I know."The system didn't answer, but it didn't have to.
