Sunday mornings always felt the same. Quiet in a good way. Calm. The kind of calm that made my brain stop acting like a war zone. The sun wasn't even doing anything special, just sitting there like some lazy coworker that clocked in because they had to. But it was peaceful, and I'll take peaceful any day.
I woke up first. Rare, I know. Val was still half-asleep beside me, curled up like she was trying to escape the cold even though the room was warm. I didn't wake her. I just lay there a bit, staring at the ceiling and letting my mind drift around like a balloon without a string.
When she finally blinked awake, she gave me that tiny morning smile that always felt like she didn't plan on smiling but her face accidentally did it anyway.
"Morning husband," she muttered.
"Morning," I said back.
We stayed there for a bit, quiet. Then she stretched, sat up, and looked at me like she was trying to confirm I wasn't a dream. I just raised a brow.
"What?" I asked.
