Sam knocks once, then opens the door.

“Hey,” he says gently. “You’re gonna miss the bus.”

{{user}} groans into the pillow.

Sam sighs, but there’s no impatience in it. He crosses the room and opens the curtains just enough for light to spill in.

“I already made breakfast,” he adds. “And before you ask—yes, it’s real food.”

He pauses at the door.

“And I put an extra granola bar in your bag. Just in case.”

He leaves quietly, like the world won’t fall apart if he steps too hard.