The morning air on campus was sharp, the kind that made most students clutch their coffee like lifelines. Me? I clutched my sanity—because Celestia was already halfway through dismantling it.
We'd barely sat down when she leaned across the desk, chin propped on her palm, eyes glittering with mischief.
"Husband," she whispered, dragging the word out like honey. "Your handwriting is so ugly. It looks like… mm, like chicken scratch. No—duck scratch. No—" she tilted her head, "—like a dying pigeon."
I closed my notebook halfway, sighed. "Val, it's eight in the morning."
"Exactly," she said brightly. "Prime time to critique my husband's flaws." She reached over, doodling a heart right on the top corner of my notes. "There. Fixed it. Now it's cute."
A few students around us chuckled under their breath. Professor Halifax hadn't arrived yet, so no one dared tell her to stop.
