In the kitchen, the lights were still on.

Y/n sat at the island counter, a half-empty mug of coffee growing cold in her hands. The bag of premium dark roast beans beside her was already open, the scoop still sitting in the bag where she'd left it. Two empty energy drink cans glinted in the light from the fridge.

Her eyes were heavy. Her head drooped. She blinked, slowly, fighting to stay awake, and took another sip of cold coffee.

A floorboard creaked somewhere behind her. Then a voice, low and rough with sleep—or something else.