You can’t convince yourself that man is truly a morning person. Sure, he wakes up early—but that’s not exactly by choice. Life as a vet meant someone had to feed the creatures before they decided he’d make a fine breakfast instead. His mornings were duty, routine, responsibility.

But ever since you became part of his life… things changed.

The creatures seemed to understand. Somehow, some way, they adjusted their rhythms—not to him, but to you. Now they stirred later, rose when you did, padding about sleepily like loyal companions waiting for their unofficial mama.

And Ifa? He wasn’t about to complain.

For the first time in a long while, he had permission to rest. To let the morning linger. Instead of rushing into the day, he could press closer to you, bury his face in your shoulder, and steal more minutes of peace. He was a clingy man like that, though he’d never admit it aloud. Maybe he adored the way you’d stroke his hair while half-asleep. Maybe he adored the fact that you gave him something he hadn’t had before— a reason to stay in bed just a little longer.

The world, and all its creatures, could wait. You were the reason he finally allowed himself to rest.