Morning came quietly.
Jane woke first.
For a few seconds, she didn't move. The room was still dim, the pale grey light of early dawn filtering through the curtains.
She could feel Sophia's arm wrapped around her waist, holding her close even in sleep warm and solid and real.
Jane lay there with her back against Sophia's chest, listening to the slow, rhythmic sound of her breathing. Each exhale was soft against her hair, each inhale a gentle rise beneath her.
She smiled, her fingers tracing the edge of Sophia's hand where it rested against her stomach.
Then she carefully turned around.
Sophia stirred. Her lashes fluttered, and a sleepy murmur escaped her lips. "Morning."
Her voice was still rough with sleep—low, gravelly, intimate.
Jane's smile widened. "Morning."
Sophia opened one eye, her gaze finding Jane's face in the half-light. "You're staring."
"I am." Jane's voice was unrepentant.
"Why?" Sophia's lips curved.
"Because I can." Jane reached out, her fingers brushing a strand of hair from Sophia's cheek.
Sophia gave a sleepy laugh, the sound vibrating through her chest. She pulled Jane closer, her arm tightening around her waist until there was no space left between them.
Jane's cheek pressed against Sophia's shoulder. Her skin was warm, faintly scented with the lingering trace of her soap.
"You're warm," Jane murmured.
"So are you." Sophia's lips brushed her forehead.
They stayed there for another few minutes, tangled in the sheets, neither particularly interested in getting out of bed. The world outside could wait. The city could hum and rush and demand. Here, in the quiet cocoon of Sophia's room, time seemed to stretch and soften.
Eventually Jane whispered, "We should get up."
Sophia tightened her arm. "No."
Jane laughed, the sound muffled against Sophia's skin. "You have work."
"Later." Sophia's voice was sleepy, stubborn.
"And I have class." Jane's fingers traced idle patterns on Sophia's ribs.
"Later." Sophia's hand pressed against the small of Jane's back, holding her in place.
Jane turned her head, her chin resting on Sophia's chest. "You're very lazy in the morning."
Sophia opened her eyes—just barely, a sliver of amber in the dim light. "Only when I have a good reason."
Jane smiled, slow and warm. "And I'm the good reason?"
Sophia kissed her forehead, her lips lingering. "Yes."
That earned her a quiet smile—the kind that reached Jane's eyes and softened her entire face.
Eventually, hunger won.
They made their way into the kitchen together, barefoot and rumpled, moving in the easy rhythm of two people who had already learned each other's habits.
The floor was cool beneath their feet. The scent of morning—clean and fresh—drifted through the open window.
Jane opened the refrigerator, the light spilling across her face. "What do you have?"
Sophia leaned against the counter, her arms crossed, watching Jane with undisguised fondness. "Eggs. Bread. Fruit."
Jane's eyes lit up. "That sounds like breakfast."
"I thought you might say that." Sophia's voice was teasing.
Jane reached for the eggs, the carton cool against her palms. "I'll cook."
Sophia stepped beside her, reaching for a knife and a cutting board. "We'll cook."
Jane looked at her, one eyebrow arched. "You're helping?"
"I live here." Sophia's voice was dry.
"Barely. I did most of the cooking last night." Jane's grin was playful.
"And I'm making up for it." Sophia's shoulder brushed against hers.
Jane smiled, soft and genuine. "Fine."
They worked side by side. Jane cracked eggs into a bowl—the shells splitting cleanly, the yolks bright and round—while Sophia sliced fruit with precise, practiced movements.
The knife made a steady thump-thump-thump against the board. The scent of citrus and fresh bread filled the kitchen.
At one point, Jane reached for something on the upper shelf. Before she could stretch, Sophia stepped behind her and reached over her shoulder, her arm brushing against Jane's.
"Here." Sophia's voice was close to her ear.
Jane turned. Sophia was standing close behind her, her body warm, her breath ghosting against Jane's neck.
Jane smiled. "You could have just told me where it was."
"I know." Sophia didn't move.
Instead, her arms settled loosely around Jane's waist from behind, her chin resting on Jane's shoulder.
Jane leaned back against her, her hands covering Sophia's. "This is distracting."
"Sorry." Sophia's voice was unconvincing.
"You don't sound sorry." Jane's fingers intertwined with Sophia's.
Sophia smiled against her hair. "I'm not."
Jane laughed, the sound bright and open. "You're getting bold."
"I learned from you." Sophia's lips brushed her ear.
Jane covered Sophia's hands with hers, squeezing gently. "Good."
A few minutes later they were seated at the table, eating breakfast together. The plates were warm, the eggs fluffy, the fruit bright against the ceramic.
Sunlight streamed through the window, catching the steam rising from their coffee.
Jane stole a piece of fruit from Sophia's plate—a slice of mango, golden and sweet.
Sophia looked at her, one eyebrow lifting. "That was mine."
"You weren't eating it." Jane's voice was innocent.
"I was going to." Sophia's fork hovered over her plate.
"You were too slow." Jane popped the mango into her mouth with a triumphant grin.
Sophia shook her head, a smile tugging at her lips. "I've created a thief."
Jane smiled innocently. "You created a girlfriend."
Sophia's expression softened—the teasing fading into something deeper, more vulnerable. "That too."
Jane's smile gentled in return. She reached across the table, her fingers brushing against Sophia's. Neither of them pulled away.
After breakfast, Jane helped clear the table while Sophia checked the time on her phone.
"We should get ready." Sophia's voice was reluctant.
Jane nodded, stacking the plates. "I need to change before class."
As they walked toward the bedroom, Sophia's hand caught hers. "We're going out again."
Jane turned, her brow furrowing slightly. "Today?"
"No. Next week." Sophia's thumb traced circles on Jane's palm.
Jane's curiosity flickered. "Where?"
Sophia's smile was mysterious. "It's a surprise."
Jane tilted her head, amused. "You like surprises now?"
"I like taking you places." Sophia's voice was soft, sincere.
Jane stepped closer, her fingers tightening around Sophia's. "When?"
Sophia thought for a moment, her gaze drifting upward. "I'll be on night shifts next week, so I'll have some time during the day."
Jane's smile widened. "A daytime date?"
"Yes." Sophia's eyes met hers.
"Just us?" Jane's voice was hopeful.
"Just us." Sophia's hand squeezed hers.
Jane leaned in and kissed her cheek—soft, lingering. "I'll be waiting."
Jane emerged from the bedroom a little later wearing one of Sophia's shirts—a soft, grey henley that hung past her hips. She looked down at herself, tugging at the hem.
"I need to give this back." Her voice was uncertain.
Sophia glanced up while fastening her watch, her fingers stilling. "No."
Jane blinked. "No?"
"Keep it." Sophia's voice was matter-of-fact.
Jane's smile returned, tentative and warm. "Really?"
"Really." Sophia's gaze was steady.
Jane looked down at the shirt again, her fingers smoothing the worn fabric. "Then I'll keep it."
Sophia picked up her keys, the metal jingling softly. "Ready?"
Jane nodded. "Ready."
The drive to the dorm was easy—the morning sun warm through the windshield, the streets still quiet before the city fully woke.
Jane sat beside Sophia, occasionally glancing at her, watching the way her fingers curled around the steering wheel, the way the light caught the edges of her jaw.
When they reached the entrance, Sophia stopped the car. The engine idled softly.
Jane reached for her bag, the strap familiar against her hand. "I'll see you later."
Sophia's hand found hers. "I'll call you."
Jane smiled, squeezing her fingers. "You better."
She leaned over and kissed Sophia softly—a gentle press of lips that lingered just long enough to be remembered. Then she pulled back, her hand still in Sophia's.
"I'll see you." Jane's voice was warm.
"See you." Sophia's eyes followed her.
Jane stepped out, the cool air rushing in. She turned once before disappearing through the doors—just a brief glance over her shoulder, a final smile.
Sophia smiled back.
Then drove away.
Jane had barely opened the door to her room when Mia looked up from her bed. Her book was open in her lap, her glasses perched on her nose.
There was a pause. A long, deliberate pause.
Mia slowly lowered the book. "Well."
Jane stopped, her hand still on the doorknob. "What?"
Mia looked her over—the borrowed shirt, the flushed cheeks, the faint smile that Jane couldn't quite wipe from her face. Then her eyes dropped to the henley, back to Jane's face.
"You stayed." Mia's voice was knowing.
Jane's cheeks warmed. "Yes."
Mia's grin spread like sunrise. "At Dr. Fancy's house."
Jane sighed, but there was no real frustration in it. "Sophia."
"I know her name." Mia set the book aside.
"Then stop calling her that." Jane dropped her bag onto the bed.
"Never." Mia stood and walked closer, her arms crossed.
Jane turned away, reaching for her water bottle.
Mia circled her like a shark. "You're glowing."
Jane immediately looked away, her fingers tightening around the bottle. "I'm not."
"You absolutely are." Mia's voice was triumphant.
"Mia." Jane's warning was weak.
"And you're wearing her clothes." Mia gestured at the henley.
Jane looked down at the shirt, then back up. "She told me to keep it."
Mia placed a hand dramatically over her heart. "Oh, you're gone."
Jane laughed despite herself—a bright, helpless sound. "Stop."
Mia studied her face for another second, her teasing expression softening into something warmer, more sincere. "You're happy."
Jane met her eyes. "Yeah."
Mia nodded, a quiet understanding passing between them. "That's all I wanted."
Jane's smile gentled. "Thank you."
Mia hugged her briefly—a quick, fierce squeeze—then stepped back. "Now get dressed. We're going to school."
Classes passed quickly.
Jane sat in the back of her lecture hall, her notes neat, her attention mostly on the professor's voice.
But her mind kept drifting—to the warmth of Sophia's arms, the taste of breakfast, the way Sophia had looked at her across the table.
She smiled at her notebook, then forced her attention back to the slide.
By the time they were leaving the university, the afternoon sun was warm against her skin. Students streamed past in clusters, their laughter and conversations swirling around her.
Mia was talking beside her—something about a group project, about deadlines and study sessions—when Jane's phone rang.
She glanced at the screen.
Grandma.
Jane smiled immediately, her heart lifting. "I'll take this."
She answered, pressing the phone to her ear. "Hello, Grandma?"
There was no familiar voice on the other end.
Jane's smile flickered. "Hello?"
A stranger spoke—a woman's voice, strained and hesitant. "Is this Jane?"
Jane stopped walking. The crowd moved around her, but she was suddenly frozen in place. "Yes. Who is this?"
"My name is Mrs. Collins. I live near your grandmother." The woman's voice trembled.
Jane's fingers tightened around the phone. Her knuckles went white. "Where's Grandma?"
There was a pause—a terrible, heavy pause that seemed to stretch for hours.
"Jane…" Mrs. Collins's voice cracked.
Jane's heart began to pound, a frantic, trapped rhythm in her chest. "What happened?"
"Your grandmother collapsed." The words came out in a rush.
Jane went completely still. The world seemed to narrow, the sounds of the campus fading to a distant hum. "What?"
"She was taken to the hospital." The woman's voice was shaking.
Mia's expression shifted immediately. Her hand grabbed Jane's arm, steadying her.
"Which hospital?" Jane's voice was sharp, urgent.
The woman gave her the name—a hospital across town, one Jane had passed a hundred times but never entered.
"Thank you." Jane's voice was clipped, mechanical.
She ended the call.
Mia grabbed her arm, her grip firm. "Jane?"
Jane looked at her, and Mia saw it—the panic written across her face, the fear flooding her eyes.
"It's Grandma." Jane's voice was barely a whisper.
"What happened?" Mia's own face had gone pale.
"She collapsed." Jane's words came out in a rush. "She collapsed and they took her to the hospital."
Mia's grip tightened. "Come on."
Jane didn't answer.
She was already running.
Her bag bounced against her side, her feet pounding against the pavement. The world blurred around her—faces, trees, buildings—but she didn't see any of it. Her phone was clutched tightly in her hand, her knuckles white.
One thought drowned out everything else.
Grandma.
And then she ran faster.