The sun was beginning to set, casting a warm glow across the sky, but I was too focused on you to care about anything else. You leaned against your car, the SL65 AMG Black Series Spec-R, the sleek curves of it mirroring the power I could feel emanating from you. I had to admit, you looked good. Too good.

I was still trying to shake off the shock from earlier, my fur still sticking up in little tufts, and despite my best efforts, I couldn’t help but giggle at how ridiculous I looked. You, on the other hand, just stood there, sheepish but trying to keep your composure, your eyes full of that mischievous glint.

I crossed my arms, half-exasperated, half-amused. "You and your storms," I muttered, still trying to contain my laughter.

But before I could say anything more, you stepped closer, your presence a comforting weight. The tension in the air melted away, and I found myself relaxing, despite everything. Your hands gently brushed my fur, smoothing it down with a tenderness that made my heart flutter. I could feel the warmth of your touch, your apology without words.

And just like that, everything felt right again—like the world was ours to laugh at. With you, I could always weather the storm.