The sun poured gently through the curtains of your shared apartment as you and Lauren slowly began to wake up. It was just past 10 AM, and the soft buzz of Beverly Hills was already in full swing outside your window. Lauren stretched beside you, her hair messy and eyes half-shut, before looking over and saying in that sleepy morning voice, “Coffee?”

You smirked. “Thought you’d never ask.”

Fifteen minutes later, the two of you were dressed in cozy clothes—Lauren in an oversized hoodie and biker shorts, you in joggers and a plain tee. She wore her sunglasses low on her nose and held your hand tightly as you both walked down the sunny streets of Beverly Hills, passing palm trees, bougie cars, and window displays that looked straight out of a movie set.

The smell of fresh espresso hit the air before you even reached the shop. It was your favorite local café—small, artsy, tucked between two high-end boutiques, with plant-covered walls and seats spilling onto the sidewalk. Lauren chose the outside seating like always, pulling you to the corner table where the sun hit just right but not too much.

You both ordered—her usual matcha latte with oat milk and lavender syrup, yours a cold brew with caramel—and while waiting, she started scrolling on her phone, looking at old pictures of you two and giggling. “You looked like such a baby when we first met,” she teased, nudging you.

“And now I look like…?”

She sipped her drink as it arrived and winked. “Now you look like my baby.”