"Honey, breakfast!" her voice floated from the kitchen.
The air carried the scent of eggs and bacon—warm, ordinary, almost eternal.
Cole glanced at his watch. 6.45 a.m.
He closed his eyes, sank deeper into the sheets, and pretended the world hadn't started yet.
Just a few more seconds. Just long enough to forget.
"I'm coming," he mumbled, though his body felt like lead.
"If you don't get that ass out of bed in ten seconds, I'm coming in after you," Leah called, her tone teasing but edged with morning impatience.
"I probably shouldn't provoke you," he said, finally sitting up.
His feet hit the cold floor. The day began.
He descended the stairs into the spacious kitchen and sat at the table.
Outside, dawn painted the Colorado sky in soft gold. Not a single cloud—just silence dressed as peace.
"It's beautiful today," he said. "When I get back from work, maybe we could go somewhere."
Leah turned from the stove, balancing a plate of eggs. "Like where?"
"Anywhere. The mountains. A lake. Somewhere without... news."
She hesitated. Then, quietly: "You know what I've been thinking about lately..."
"Our little one's kicking again?" he asked, stepping closer and wrapping his arms around her from behind.
He felt the curve of her belly—alive, insistent, the only thing in the world that still made sense.
"Hey, that's not funny," she said, but leaned into him. "I swear, it feels like I'm carrying a linebacker."
They stood like that for a moment—breathing together, holding on, as if the world outside didn't already tremble.
"You should eat," she said finally. "Or you'll be late to your kingdom of books."
She set the plate down. They sat.
Cole took a bite. Chewing slowly, savoring it. "Leah... it's perfect. As always."
He smiled.
"You don't have to keep flattering me," she laughed. "I'll start thinking you want something."
He finished his meal, rinsed the plate, and wiped his mouth.
"Should be home early today. The library closes at two—school field trip."
She handed him his coat. "Then stop by the store for a new vacuum. Ours keeps cutting out. One minute it's roaring, the next—silence. Like it's got a mind of its own."
She turned toward the living room.
"What about a kiss?" he called after her, half-playful, half-pleading.
"The omelet wasn't enough?" she tossed over her shoulder. "Besides, I still have that damn headache—if you'd even noticed, you bookworm."
She blew him a kiss from across the hall.
"And... I love you."
"I love you too," he said softly.
He laced his boots, grabbed his keys, and stepped outside.
The car started on the first try. On the highway, he fiddled with the radio. Static.
"What the hell is wrong with this thing?"
He tapped the dashboard.
Suddenly, a voice crackled through:
"Breaking news: U.S.-China talks have collapsed. The White House issued an ultimatum—unless Chinese forces withdraw from Taiwan and naval units from Japanese waters, the U.S. will respond with consequences 'of historic severity.'
Meanwhile, war has erupted in Europe. Following Russia's invasion of the Baltic states, NATO launched airstrikes on Kaliningrad early Saturday morning. The situation is escalating rapidly.
Citizens are urged to remain vigilant. And now—a classic: We Are the Champions by Queen."
Cole switched the radio off.
"When's it all going to collapse?" he muttered. "Like a house of cards."
He parked in the staff lot at the Colorado School of Mines and walked toward Arthur Lakes Library.
Four hours passed in quiet routine.
Cole reshelved books, fixed call numbers, answered student questions.
At 11:03 a.m., the sirens began.
Seconds later, the library doors burst open. Four students stumbled in—pale, breathless, eyes wide with terror.
"What's going on?" Cole asked.
"Do you have a bunker?" one gasped. "We have to hide—now!"
"What? Why? What happened?"
"Nuclear strike! Russia hit Europe—and now they're coming for us too! The base just launched—"
Cole rushed to the window.
From the nearby military installation, twenty missiles streaked into the sky, white contrails cutting the blue like scars.
"God... Leah."
He yanked out his phone. Dialed. Again. Again.
Only dead tones answered.
"Leah, pick up—please!"
He bolted for the door.
"Cole!"
Derek—his colleague, small-framed, glasses askew—grabbed his arm. "Get to the shelter. Now. Or you die here."
"But my wife—I have to get to her!"
"Ten minutes, Cole! That's all we've got! She's already safe—she's smart, she's got sense—"
"I don't care!" Tears blurred his vision. He twisted, desperate.
Derek stared at him—then at the sky.
More contrails. Closer. Coming their way.
"Fuck—come on!" Derek pulled him inside.
Cole hesitated.
Then ran.
The heavy concrete doors of the underground shelter slammed shut behind them. Someone locked the bolts from within.
Silence fell.
Cole looked at his hands—shaking, empty, useless.
And whispered:
"Leah... I'll find you. And I'm sorry."
Then—the first detonation.
The bunker shook like the earth itself was screaming.
Dust rained from the ceiling.
People fell to their knees.
And then—
Silence.