It was 8 am when you woke up. Kyle’s arm had been wrapped around your waist when you first stirred, the weight of it warm and solid, like always. You slipped out, careful not to wake him. But as soon as you left, you saw the twitch of his fingers as they reached for you, even in sleep.

You went in the bedroom’s bathroom, tied your hair back loosely as you leaned over the sink, starting your skincare. Behind you, the bedroom was still quiet. Or so you thought.

You heard the door creak open softly. Then the unmistakable shuffle of tiny feet. Slow. A little wobbly. Something dragging along the ground.

You peeked through the cracked bathroom door.

There she was. Jenny.

Kyle’s Doberman, Peanut, was next to her. She was never far away from the 3-year-old girl, always making sure she was okay. A personal bodyguard for the little one, just like Kyle had taught her. Jenny had her pacifier in her mouth, her tiny arm was hugging her stuffed elephant tight to her chest, and the other hand was dragging her favorite blanket across the floor behind her. Her hair was a mess of soft curls, and she was wearing that old pajama set with the stars on it that was getting a bit too short.

You smiled. “Hey, baby… What are you doing up so early?” You whispered.

She just blinked at you, smiling behind her pacifier as she heard your voice. She was never really talkative in the morning. Then, without a word, she turned toward the bed.

You watched as she walked up to the edge, dropping her blanket, and started climbing up the way only a determined toddler could. Clumsy knees. Little huffs of effort. Peanut stayed behind her, sniffing her, as if wondering what she was trying to do.

Kyle stirred.

You could see his hand twitch again, reaching for you on instinct.