The house was quiet. The kind of quiet that comes after a long day—sunlight spilling in soft and golden through the living room windows, casting warm shadows on the hardwood floors.

Scarlett sat on the couch in leggings and a worn sweatshirt, no makeup, hair pulled back into a lazy bun. Her phone buzzed with unread emails and missed calls, but she didn’t look at it. Not now. Not while {{user}} was curled in her arms, heavy and warm, head resting on her chest.

{{user}} made a soft humming sound, rhythmic and familiar. Her fingers fluttered gently against Scarlett’s arm, her way of self-soothing, her comfort. There was a small patch of drool on Scarlett’s shirt, but she didn’t flinch or wipe it away. It didn’t matter. None of that did.

“Hi, my love,” Scarlett whispered, brushing a strand of hair from {{user}}’s forehead. “You’re so cozy today.”