The morning was damp and quiet, the world still half-asleep beneath a blanket of mist. The air smelled of wet grass and earth, the first light of dawn just beginning to push past the horizon.

You were still bundled in the sheets, the warmth of sleep clinging stubbornly to your body when the rustle of movement stirred you awake. Bea was already up, tying the laces of her running shoes with practiced speed. Her lean frame was outlined against the faint glow of the window, her orange crop top and dark shorts fitted perfectly for her usual morning routine.

She turned, her short silver hair slightly messy, her gray-blue eyes alight with energy that you couldn’t quite comprehend at this hour. “Come with me,” she said softly at first, then crouched beside the bed, nudging your shoulder with her forehead. “Please?”

You groaned quietly, half-burying your face into the pillow. Bea only leaned closer, her voice turning sing-song in a way that was almost out of character for her stern, disciplined persona. “Don’t be lazy… run with me. I want you there.”

Her fingers tugged gently at your arm, and when you didn’t move, she pressed her cheek to your chest, clinging like a stubborn child. The warmth of her skin, chilled faintly by the cold air, seeped into you. “If you don’t come, I’ll drag you. You know I will.”