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The morning sun filtered softly through the sheer curtains of Michael's bedroom, casting a warm glow over his face.
He was sleeping soundly, completely dead to the world.
He had gone to bed embarrassingly late, having stayed up scrolling through the endless stream of news, tabloids, and social media reactions regarding the Wuntchs.
Seeing those leeches dragged through the mud made him very happy.
Before he had finally retreated to his house next door, Janet and Terry had sat him down in the living room for a serious talk.
At first, Terry had put on his sternest "dad face" and scolded him.
"You should never do something like that, Michael," Terry had said, pointing a firm finger at him. "If there is any problem, you let me handle it. That's what these are for!"
Terry had then ripped off his suit jacket and started aggressively posing like a professional bodybuilder, flexing his biceps and kissing his own arm. "These pythons are registered weapons, son!"
It was so absurdly funny that the tension in the room instantly evaporated.
Michael and Janet burst into uncontrollable laughter, wiping tears from their eyes.
But then Janet had reached across the table, taking Michael's hands in hers.
Her eyes were still red from crying, but they were filled with overwhelming love. "Thank you, sweetheart," she whispered. "But please, never, ever do that again. What would have happened if he had a ring on? What if you got a terrible scar on your handsome face?"
Michael had just grinned, leaning back on the couch. "If I got a scar across my eye, I'd just dye my hair green and walk around with three swords. Dad could call me Zoro."
Terry had barked out a laugh, and Janet had affectionately swatted Michael's shoulder, calling him a nerd.
It had ended up being a wonderfully warm, loving family night.
Now, wrapped in his heavy duvet, Michael was enjoying the best sleep he had experienced in two lifetimes.
Across the Atlantic Ocean, Emma Myers was having a much more chaotic morning.
She had a late call time on set today, so she had enjoyed the rare luxury of sleeping in.
She stood in front of her hotel bathroom mirror, an oversized t-shirt hanging off her shoulder, idly brushing her teeth.
As she brushed, her mind wandered back to the paparazzi photos from the Italian bistro.
A happy, entirely smitten smile curled around her toothbrush.
"I should screenshot those photos," she thought to herself. "He looked so fabulous that day. Maybe I can make it my home screen... no, that's too much. Maybe just keep it in my hidden folder."
She rinsed her mouth, dried her face, and walked back into the bedroom, picking up her phone from the nightstand to execute her screenshot mission.
What she saw completely wiped the smile off her face.
Her lock screen was absolute chaos.
She had dozens of missed calls, news alerts, and a terrifying amount of unread messages from last night and early this morning.
Right at the top was a barrage of texts from Asha, who was already on set.
Asha (7:14 AM): EMMA WAKE UP!!!
Asha (7:15 AM): OMG CALL MICHAEL RIGHT NOW.
Asha (7:16 AM): [Link Attached: TMZ WORLD EXCLUSIVE]
Asha (7:20 AM): ARE YOU SEEING THIS NEWS?! IS HE OKAY?!
Emma's heart leaped into her throat.
Her fingers fumbled frantically over the screen as she clicked the link.
The video buffered for a second before playing.
Emma gasped, her hands flying to cover her mouth as she watched a red-faced, deranged man swing a brutal punch directly into Michael's face while Michael shielded his mother.
"Oh my god," Emma breathed, her hands shaking.
She immediately exited the app, went to her contacts, and hit call.
Ring... Ring... Ring... Ring...
On the other side of the world, Michael stirred.
He blindly reached a hand out from under the duvet, grabbing his phone off the nightstand.
"Hello?" Michael mumbled, his voice thick, raspy, and thick with sleep.
Emma felt a wave of relief just hearing him speak. "Hello, Michael," she said, her voice incredibly soft and laced with worry. "Good morning."
Michael's eyes snapped open.
The sleepiness vanished instantly.
He sprang up from his pillows, running a hand through his messy hair, a massive, genuine smile breaking across his face.
"Emma," Michael said, his voice instantly softening into a tone of immense gentleness. "Good morning."
"I just saw the news," Emma rushed out, unable to hold back her concern. "I saw the video of your uncle. Michael, are you okay? I am so worried. Did he hurt you? You should have moved out of the way!"
Michael's heart swelled.
Hearing her frantic, caring voice was better than any medicine. "I'm perfectly fine, Emma. I promise. It looks much worse on camera than it actually was. I barely felt it."
"You let him punch you," Emma scolded lightly, though she sounded more amazed than angry. "Your poor mom... is she alright?"
"She's okay. Shaken up, but she's tough. And my dad is pampering her today, so she's in good hands," Michael smiled, leaning back against his headboard. "I appreciate you checking on me. I didn't mean to scare you."
"Well, you did," Emma huffed softly.
Then, a playful lilt entered her voice. "Though, I have to admit... taking a hit to protect your mom? It's very chivalrous. Very heroic. The internet is completely losing its mind over you."
"Is that so?" Michael chuckled, his voice dropping an octave into a smooth, flirty drawl. "I guess I just have a protective streak. I'd take a punch for you, too, you know."
Emma felt a sudden, intense heat rise to her cheeks.
She twirled a strand of hair around her finger, biting her lip to stop herself from grinning too widely. "You'd ruin that handsome face for me?"
"Without hesitation," Michael answered smoothly, meaning every single syllable.
Emma let out a breathy, happy little laugh.
For a moment, neither of them spoke.