The first rays of dawn were filtering through the penthouse's floor-to-ceiling windows when Kaelen finally decided it was safe to move. Sera had remained deeply asleep, her breathing even and her grip on Kaelen's shirt (which she had somehow fisted in her sleep) finally loosening.
Moving with a caution usually reserved for disarming explosives, Kaelen carefully slid out from under Sera's head, replacing her lap with a cushion. Sera murmured something unintelligible and snuggled deeper into the sofa, but didn't wake.
Kaelen looked down at the sleeping woman, now a peaceful lump in cartoon cat pajamas. The idea of leaving her crumpled on the couch felt strangely wrong. With a resolve that surprised her, she bent down, slid one arm under Sera's knees and the other behind her back, and lifted her.
Sera was surprisingly light. She instinctively curled into Kaelen's chest, her head finding a comfortable niche against her shoulder with a soft, sleepy sigh. The domestic absurdity of the situation was not lost on Kaelen: Kaelen Blackwood, heiress to an empire, was carrying her passed-out fake fiancée to bed like a child after a slumber party.
She laid Sera gently in the center of her large bed, pulling the duvet up to her chin. Sera immediately burrowed into the pillows, a small, content smile on her face. The 0% approval seemed to hum softly in the quiet room. Kaelen retreated, closing the door softly behind her.
A few hours later, showered, changed, and feeling more human, Kaelen found herself once again behind the wheel. The car had been whisked away at dawn by a discreet (and undoubtedly horrified) detail to be professionally de-vomited. She now drove a more understated company sedan to fetch Iris from her sleepover.
Iris bounded out of her friend's house, a duffel bag slung over her shoulder and energy to spare. "Auntie Kae! Did you have a fun night with Momma? Did she win lots of awards?"
"Something like that," Kaelen said, a wry smile touching her lips as she opened the car door. "She had a very… celebratory night. She's still sleeping it off."
Iris giggled, climbing in. "Momma's a lightweight. One glass of champagne at New Year's and she starts singing show tunes."
Back at the penthouse, Kaelen made pancakes a skill from her old life that, like math, had inexplicably transferred over. The scent of vanilla and frying batter filled the air. Iris set the table with an exuberance that involved more clattering than was strictly necessary.
"Can we watch cartoons?" Iris asked, her mouth full of syrupy pancake. "Since it's Saturday? Momma usually says no until after lunch, but she's not up!"
Kaelen, who had never in her life chosen to watch cartoons, found herself nodding. "I suppose the rules are suspended due to… extenuating circumstances."
"Yes!" Iris punched the air, grabbed her plate, and dashed to the living room, grabbing the largest, softest throw blanket on her way.
Minutes later, Kaelen found herself on the sofa, a stack of pancakes on the coffee table, with Iris tucked firmly under one arm, the blanket draped over them both. The screen was filled with the bright, chaotic animation of rodents adventure, a show about a group of tiny, incredibly round hamsters having absurd, slice-of-life adventures.
"That one's Peanut," Iris explained, pointing a sticky finger at the screen. "He's the brave one. And that's Mochi! He's always hungry. That's why he's so round! Just like a rice cake!"
Kaelen, who analyzed market trends and corporate espionage reports for fun, found herself genuinely invested in whether the hamsters would successfully build a cardboard rocket ship to get to a floating piece of popcorn.
It was into this scene of domestic bliss that Sera emerged.
She appeared in the doorway like a ghost, pale and squinting against the cheerful light. She was wrapped in a luxurious robe, her hair a glorious mess piled on top of her head. She moved slowly, as if afraid her head might fall off.
Iris spotted her first. "Momma! You're awake! We're watching Rodents Adventure! Auntie Kae made pancakes! And we're breaking the rules!"
Sera blinked, her gaze drifting from her ecstatic daughter to Kaelen, who was sitting on her sofa, under a blanket, watching hamster cartoons. Her expression was one of profound, hungover confusion.
Kaelen muted the TV. "There's coffee," she said, her voice neutral. "And aspirin. On the counter."
Sera didn't move for a moment. Then, a flicker of memory seemed to cross her face a flash of a silver car interior, a feeling of overwhelming shame. Her cheeks flushed a faint pink. She looked from Kaelen to the cartoons and back again, the bizarre normality of the scene completely disarming her.
Instead of retreating, she shuffled into the room and sank onto the sofa on Iris's other side, groaning softly as she did. Immediately, Iris transferred herself from Kaelen's side to Sera's, snuggling into her mother's side and pulling the blanket over them both.
"You missed the best part, Momma! Peanut almost flew the rocket ship into the sun!"
"Mmmph," Sera replied, resting her cheek on top of Iris's head and closing her eyes against the animated brightness. "Too… loud."
Kaelen reached for the remote and turned the volume down to a gentle murmur. The three of them sat there, a silent, messy, and utterly bizarre unit: a villainess-turned-babysitter, a world-class actress with a catastrophic hangover, and a child enthralled by spherical rodents.
After a few minutes, Sera's hand crept out from under the blanket and blindly groped on the coffee table until it found a cold, leftover pancake. She brought it to her mouth and took a small, careful bite.
Iris giggled. "You eating like Mochi, Momma."
Sera cracked a smile against Iris's hair, her eyes still closed. "Don't tell anyone."
Kaelen watched them from the other end of the sofa, a strange, warm feeling settling in her chest that had nothing to do with the System's metrics. It was quieter than approval, deeper and more calming.
This is… nice, she thought, the simplicity of the sentiment startling her. I feel… good. Actually good.
The thought was immediately followed by a cold trickle of dread. This was too peaceful. Too perfect. In her experience, both in this life and her last, calm waters always hid sharks. Valeria's audit, her father's cold fury, Cassian's gloating it was all still there, simmering beneath the surface of this perfect Saturday. Something bad was coming. She could feel it like a change in atmospheric pressure.
She looked at Sera, who had finally opened her eyes and was now weakly cheering along with Iris as the hamsters achieved their goal, and at Iris, whose laughter was utterly unguarded. A protective instinct, sharp and fierce, rose in her throat.
Then, just as quickly, she let the anxiety go. For the first time, she consciously chose to ignore the looming specter of the plot. Whatever it is, she promised herself, I'll handle it. The future me can deal with it. Right now, this is enough.
This wasn't a strategy. It wasn't a performance. It was just… Saturday.
Unmuting the TV, she turned the volume back up just a little. On screen, the hamsters celebrated their piece of popcorn with a tiny, joyous dance.
The day unspooled in a lazy, syrupy way. They moved from cartoons to a board game that involved a truly shocking amount of plastic cheese, and then to a collaborative effort to build a blanket fort that took over the entire living room. Sera's hangover gradually receded, replaced by a soft, quiet contentment. She didn't mention the previous night, and Kaelen didn't bring it up. The unspoken truce held, fortified by shared laughter and the simple joy of Iris's company.
When evening fell, Kaelen, emboldened by the day's success, attempted to make dinner. It was a less triumphant endeavor than the pancakes the pasta was slightly overcooked and the sauce suspiciously lumpy but Sera and Iris ate it with gusto, declaring it "the best weird pasta ever."
Later, after Iris had been convinced to brush her teeth and was tucked into bed, a comfortable silence fell over the penthouse. Sera stood by the floor-to-ceiling windows, looking out at the city lights.
"Thank you," she said quietly, not turning around. "For today. For… everything last night. I know I was… a lot."
"It was memorable," Kaelen replied, coming to stand beside her.
Sera finally glanced at her, a real, albeit tired, smile on her face. "That's one word for it." She hesitated. "And for stopping me… you know. When I tried to…"
"You were drunk," Kaelen said simply. "It wouldn't have been real."
Sera held her gaze for a long moment, and Kaelen saw the actress was completely gone. It was just Sera, raw and honest. "Maybe not then," she conceded softly. She didn't elaborate, and Kaelen didn't push.
They stood there for a while in silence, watching the silent ballet of the city below.
Eventually, Sera yawned. "I'm going to crash. I think I used up a year's worth of energy today." She paused at the doorway to her room. "Goodnight, Kaelen."
"Goodnight, Sera."
Kaelen retreated to her own room. As she lay in the dark, she replayed the day—the cartoons, the blanket fort, the terrible pasta, the quiet understanding in Sera's eyes. The System was silent. The 0% was a steady, comforting presence.
No punishment came. No warning. No sudden crisis.
For now, the storm held off. And as she drifted off to sleep, Kaelen's last thought was a peaceful one. Let the future me handle it. For tonight, this was enough.