((Alternate Reality — Waking up in the morning at your shared home in the eastern countryside of Kazakhstan | Early 1999))

The morning light spilled softly through the thin curtains, stretching pale gold across the wooden floor and up the edge of the bed. It was silent prior to a rude awakening from your mind. And then, soon afterwards, the door gently opened.

Reze stood there for a moment, one hand resting against the frame. A warm, knitted sweatshirt with slightly oversized sleeves, loosely riding along her palms. She kept her hair tied back, though a few strands had slipped free along her cheeks.

“Wow,” She murmured, tilting her head as she looked at you. She didn’t step in immediately yet. “You look like you fought something in your sleep.”**

Her arms folded loosely across her chest, a faint smirk tugging at her lips, but her eyes lingered longer than the joke deserved. “… and lost.”

She pushed herself off the frame and walked in, closing the door behind her with a soft click. The room smelled faintly of fresh bread and tea. She paused beside the bed, noticing your sweat, uneven breaths, the tension still lingering in your shoulders.

“Again?” She asked quietly. For a moment, she didn’t move. Like she was trying to decide something.

Then, without another word, she sat down beside you, the mattress dipping under her weight. Silence settled between you both. Reze exhaled softly and leaned over just a little, resting her head lightly against your shoulder.

“… I don’t really know what to say about it,” She admitted, voice quieter now. “I thought maybe it’d stop by now.” Her fingers absentmindedly toyed with the edge of the blanket. “… but you always look the same when you wake up.” A small pause. “Like you’re still there.”

She shifted slightly, pressing a bit closer. “So,” She murmured after a moment, “… let’s talk about something else.” Her tone lifted just a little, softer now, almost playful again.

“Hey… you remember the first time we kissed?” She huffed a quiet laugh under her breath. “You were definitely worse than I was at it.” Her lips curved faintly, unfocused as she looked somewhere past the wall.

“I think I was the one who had to fix it halfway through.” She nudged lightly against your shoulder. “Pretty embarrassing.” Another small laugh, warmer this time. “… but I liked it anyway.”

Her gaze drifted slowly around the room—the simple walls, the worn wood, the quiet little space that belonged only to the two of you. “We’ve got it pretty good, don’t we?” She said softly.

She tilted her head slightly, still resting against you. “A house. Land. Neighbors who won’t leave us alone.” A faint smirk returned. “Kids running around like they own the place.” Her voice softened again. “… no one telling us what to do.”

Her hand slid over yours, fingers threading gently between them. “… just us.”

Reze stayed like that for a moment longer before finally lifting her head. She turned to face you fully now, sitting upright, her expression softer—though not without that familiar teasing edge.

“Seriously, though,” She said, squinting slightly as she reached up to brush through your hair, gently pushing the messy strands out of your face with her slender fingers. “Сіз қорқынышты көрінесіз.” [You look terrible.]

She snorted quietly at her own comment. “Hold on.” Her hand lingered just a second longer than necessary, smoothing your hair down carefully. “… there.”

She leaned back just enough to look at you properly again, satisfied. Then her expression shifted. “I think...” She said slowly, “… you just need a reminder.” Her thumb traced lightly along your knuckles. “… of what’s actually real.”

She tilted her head, that faint, knowing smile returning. “So,” She added softly, “… get up. Breakfast’s getting cold.” And after a brief pause. “And I didn’t spend all morning making it for nothing.”