Morning arrived quietly, without drama or urgency. Soft light slipped through the curtains and rested on Ashaas's face. She stirred, half-asleep, and felt an arm around her waist, warm and firm. She smiled before opening her eyes. Arjun was still asleep, his face relaxed, his breathing slow. For once, her mind didn't rush backward into memories or questions. It stayed right there, in that small, safe moment.
She tried to move, but his grip tightened slightly, like he was holding on even in sleep.
"Don't disappear," he murmured, eyes still closed.
"I was just trying to breathe," she whispered, amused.
"Do it here," he said, pulling her closer.
She laughed softly and rested her head against his chest, listening to his heartbeat. It felt steady, familiar. When they finally got out of bed, it was because her stomach growled loud enough to embarrass her.
In the kitchen, Arjun moved around like someone who didn't fully trust the space. He stared at the coffee machine with suspicion.
"Why does it look smarter than me?" he asked.
Ashaas leaned against the counter, smiling. "You're overthinking it. Press the button."
"I don't trust buttons," he said. "They always expect commitment."
She reached past him and pressed it. The machine started humming.
"See? No emotional attachment."
He shook his head. "You're too calm in the mornings. It's unsettling."
While the coffee brewed, Arjun put bread into the toaster. A few seconds later, the smell of something burning filled the room.
Ashaas sniffed the air. "That's not right."
The toaster popped. The bread was completely black.
He stared at it. "I like it crispy."
"That's not crispy. That's gone."
"It died doing what it loved."
She laughed, taking the toast away before he could defend it further. "You're banned from breakfast duties."
"Harsh," he said. "I tried."
She stepped closer and kissed his cheek. "I know. That counts."
He turned his head slightly, and her lips brushed the corner of his mouth. They both paused.
He smiled slowly. "That wasn't part of the thank-you."
"Maybe it was," she said, meeting his eyes.
They ended up eating cereal instead, sitting on the counter, sharing one bowl even though there were two clean ones right there. Their knees touched, and neither moved away. Arjun stole the last spoonful. She pretended to glare at him.
"You're selfish," she said.
"I prefer efficient," he replied.
He looked at her then, really looked, like he was saving the moment somewhere inside.
"You seem lighter today," he said.
She thought about it. "I feel lighter."
"Good," he said quietly. "I like this version of you. The one who stays."
She reached for his hand and squeezed it. "I'm not going anywhere."
Outside, the city was waking up, busy and loud. Inside, everything felt simple. No past pulling at her, no future rushing her. Just coffee, laughter, and the comfort of choosing each other—again and again.