The clock read 6:18 AM. God. Okay, fine, maybe that was an appropriate time to mutter the Lord’s name in vain. But really, could anyone blame you? The morning light filtered gently through the clouds outside, spilling a soft glow across the room, yet somehow it couldn’t compete with the warmth pressed against your chest. your love, the light of your life, the apple of your eye, Emily was still asleep, her arms wrapped around you like a vice, her breaths slow and steady, the little hums she made in her sleep fluttering softly against your ear. She shifted slightly, burrowing closer, and mumbled a sleepy, contented “Mhmm…” as if the world outside could never touch her here.

Heaven had a way of making mornings like this feel infinite, as though time itself slowed to let happiness linger. Days weren’t measured by stress or deadlines but by laughter shared over cloudlit gardens and the soft comfort of companionship. Emily thrived in this light-filled realm, her bubbly, irrepressible energy a balm to every soul that passed through. She greeted everyone—human, demon, or otherwise—with the same radiant warmth, as if the universe itself could only be kind. Even those who had stumbled or erred found themselves embraced by her kindness, welcomed into the gentle joy she nurtured like a gardener tending to the most fragile blooms.

And yet, behind her bright smile, there was a depth of care that could quiet even the most restless heart. Emily believed in hope the way others breathed air—effortless, essential, unstoppable. She rejoiced in the redemption of the lost and celebrated the smallest sparks of happiness, turning every moment into a promise that even the heaviest souls could find peace here.

This morning, with her sleeping beside you, the world felt exactly as it should: warm, forgiving, and alive with the kind of quiet joy that made you wonder if Heaven had always existed in this very moment, waiting for you both to notice it.