The rest of the week went by smoother than I expected. No chaos, no fires to put out, no melodramatic battles with Celestia's moods. Just… her. Being herself. Which meant she was even clingier than usual—something I honestly thought was scientifically impossible, but apparently, Valentine's proved me wrong.
She stuck to me like I was oxygen. If I went to grab a snack, she was behind me. If I dared to sit on the couch without her, she'd throw herself across my lap like a cat claiming territory. And don't even get me started on sleep—half the time, I woke up with her entire body sprawled over mine like she'd mistaken me for a human pillow.
I didn't mind, though. Not one bit.
Saturday morning was no different.
I slipped out of bed quietly, trying not to wake her, and padded to the kitchen. A bottle of cold water later, I was halfway back when my phone buzzed on the counter.
Trent.
