The first pale light of morning crept across Sharon's living room, painting soft gold over tangled blankets and the empty cartons of last night's ice cream. Sharon and Jia slept curled on opposite ends of the sofa, legs tangled and cheeks pressed to striped cushions, the TV screen still blinking "Next episode?" in silent devotion.
Ray let himself in quietly, balancing a small paper bag and humming under his breath. He paused at the sight of a tableau of friendship in its truest, most vulnerable shape. Sharon's hair fell in loose waves across her face, and Jia with an arm flung dramatically above her head. He smiled, savoring this sliver of peace rarely afforded any of them.
Setting the bag down, Ray padded softly across the room. "Time to wake up, sleeping beauties," he murmured, voice gentle but insistent.
Jia was first to stir, groggy and muttering. "Five more minutes unless you brought coffee and a contract, I can ignore."
Ray laughed, nudging her foot. "Just breakfast. Sharon, c'mon." His hand hovered just above Sharon's shoulder, close but respectful.
Sharon blinked awake, momentarily lost in the blur of sunlight and warmth. She felt the reassuring weight of Jia's legs across hers, Ray's calm steadiness beside them, and the faint, sweet smell of vanilla from yesterday's treats. She stretched, pushing her hair from her eyes.
"Did we actually survive all twelve episodes?" she teased, voice husky.
Jia groaned theatrically. "Only if you count crying over fictional breakups as survival."
Sharon laughed softly, her smile lingering longer than it had in days. "Just wait until next week angst doubles with a side of ugly tears."
Ray rolled his eyes with fondness. "You two are hopeless."
Sharon stood, gathering herself, remnants of sleep and comfort clinging like a second skin as she drifted to the kitchen. She moved by instinct, pulling open cabinets, measuring coffee, and chopping fruit, her movements smooth and practiced. Creating breakfast for her best friends had always been its own kind of balm.
In the kitchen's quiet, Ray and Jia's voices floated over, muffled and familiar.
"Did you sleep?" Ray asked.
"Like the dead," Jia grinned. "Sharon needed it more than me, though."
A beat of silence passed gently, never prying. Then Jia called, "Need a hand in there?"
"I've got it," Sharon replied, but only half-meant it.
Still, Jia appeared, wrapping arms around Sharon from behind in a loose hug. "Thanks for letting me crash here. No wild dreams?"
Sharon shrugged, a small smile flickering. "Only about running from spreadsheets."
Plates emerged, scrambled eggs, toast, fruit, and coffee for three. The kitchen filled with easy laughter as they ate, knees bumping beneath the breakfast bar, the morning unhurried and light.
Ray reached for the last piece of toast. "So. How's our fearless leader holding up?"
Sharon hesitated, considering. The safety of their company allowed a rare honesty. "I'm… okay. Just tired. Grateful." She looked at them both, her expression open and unguarded. "Couldn't have survived last night alone."
Jia squeezed her hand under the table. "You never have to."
Conversation turned to weekend plans and office gossip, teasing, and everyday worries. For a while, the outside world faded the weight of old heartbreak and new uncertainties setting down, if only for a morning.
By the time breakfast ended, Sharon felt a warm calm spreading under her skina cushion against the sharp edges ahead.
From the hallway, her phone buzzed. She ignored it for a moment, choosing instead to linger in the soft edges of comfort, letting sunlight and friendship hold her exactly where she needed to be.