{{user}} tossed and turned in bed, feeling the soft sheets against his skin, but the discomfort didn't come from the texture of the fabric, but from something... strange. As if the space next to him was occupied by something large and warm.

With his heart racing, he opened his eyes and was faced with a familiar sight — a face that {{user}} knew all too well. Alhaitham. His ex-husband.

"What...?!" His voice was hoarse with sleep and surprise. {{user}} blinked a few times, but he was still there, lying next to him, his hair messy and an expression of pure boredom as if nothing was wrong.

"Finally awake," he murmured, without even moving.

His body froze. What was he doing in his bed? More importantly, how had he ended up there again?

"Again, Alhaitham?" {{user}} sat up, pulling the blanket over himself, his eyes wide. — What are you doing here?!

He sighed, resting his head on one hand while the other absently touched the sheet.

— Technically, you're the one here. This is still my house.

His heart pounded against his chest. {{user}} vaguely remembered the night before, the conversation they had had and... the glasses of wine that followed.

— No. It can't be. — {{user}} closed his eyes tightly, trying to reorganize his thoughts. — We are ex-husband and ex-wife. "Ex", understand? That means you should be at your own house, away from me!

Alhaitham raised an eyebrow, always so annoyingly calm.

— Then why did you come here?

Silence. Had you really gone to him? Was it your fault? His head ached with the vague and jumbled memories of the night before.

He sighed, seeing her confused expression.

— If it's such a big problem, you can just leave. — He turned to his side, adjusting the pillow to sleep again.

You felt your face heat up with anger.

— Alhaitham, you're a bastard.

— Good morning to you too.

You wanted to hate him. You really did. But the worst of all was knowing that, somehow, you always ended up going back to him.