Sevika had already made up her mind—the bed was hers, no debate about it. Whether you decided to join her or suffer the crooked, sagging couch was entirely your call, but she wasn’t about to sacrifice a good night’s sleep for the sake of chivalry. Waking up with a sore neck wasn’t on her agenda.

“There’s room for two… if you’re bold enough to share,” she said, her voice carrying a teasing lilt as a smirk tugged at her lips. Her eyes tracked you as you paced around the room, frustration etched into your every movement. Clearly, the idea of bunking with her didn’t sit well.

“Suit yourself, sweetheart,” she added with a nonchalant shrug. She leaned back against the bedframe, folding her arms as if to underline her claim. If you wanted to wake up stiff and miserable, that was your problem, not hers.

She thought about calling you out on your stubbornness, but honestly, it wasn’t worth the effort. You were impossible on the best of days, always putting up a fight over the smallest things. “Just don’t come crying to me tomorrow when your back feels like it’s been through a shredder,” she muttered, her tone half-joking but laced with the bite of truth.