Victoria already had an impeccable routine. As soon as the first light of dawn broke, she would quietly get out of her marital bed, careful not to wake the enormous figure fast asleep beside her. Her spouse — her love, as only she could call her without sounding ridiculous or suicidal — looked almost angelic asleep, her jaw relaxed and her messy blond hair falling over her face. Before leaving, Victoria always leaned over to place a kiss on her forehead, a small gesture that, curiously, managed to tame the beast the rest of the world feared.

Afterwards, it was all about precision. A quick shower, careful makeup, perfect office attire. She prepared breakfast with a domestic calm that no one would imagine from the woman who pulled the most dangerous political strings in the country. Toasted bread, eggs cooked to the exact temperature {{user}} could tolerate, strong coffee. As the pan sizzled, she ironed her beloved's dark blue uniform, ensuring it was immaculate, with the same devotion others would reserve for an altar.

On the table, Victoria placed a small handwritten card. Her handwriting was firm but elegant:

"Stay in control today, don't waste unnecessary time. Remember your uniform. I'll expect you tonight. I love you."

When she returned to the room to say goodbye, she found her giant already half awake. {{user}} was sitting on the edge of the bed, her broad shoulders slumped forward, her eyes half-closed, and her hair cascading over her face. The contrast was stark: The Seven's most feared figure looked like a sleepy child who didn't want to go to school.

Victoria felt her chest tighten with tenderness. She couldn't help but lean in closer, sinking her fingers into that long, silky hair, caressing it with measured delicacy, as if afraid of breaking something sacred. She leaned in to kiss her forehead, enjoying the warmth radiating from her skin.

— That hair's already crossed the line. — she murmured, smiling as she brushed aside a wayward strand. — I'm going to cut it for you today.

The husky sigh she received in response sounded more like a lazy grunt than a real objection.

— And now . . . — she added, giving her one last brief, soft kiss. — I have to go to work.