It was the day she was leaving.
That thought hit me the second I opened my eyes. The room looked the same but it felt different. Heavier. Like the air itself knew that by evening, she'd be gone.
For three weeks straight, I'd gotten used to her chaos filling every corner of my space. Her snacks left on my desk, her hoodies thrown carelessly over my chair, her laugh bouncing off the walls like she owned them. My bed smelled like her, my mornings started with her, my nights ended with her.
And now I was supposed to wake up tomorrow and not have any of that?
I was still processing when I felt her shift against me. Her leg curled tighter over mine, her face burrowing into my chest.
"Mmm," she muttered, voice scratchy from sleep, "nope. Not today. I'm not leaving."
I blinked down at her, already sighing. "Val—"
"No." Her arms locked tighter around me. "Don't 'Val' me. I'm staying. End of discussion."
"You can't—"
