On the windowsill, a small leopard-coated cat lay stretched out, tail flicking lazily against the glass. Every few seconds, a whisker twitched as something outside caught attention—a bird, a car, a shift in the wind.

Behind them, a larger cat—sleek, gray, and striped like shadow and smoke—shifted on the bed, one eye cracking open. Kael didn't move his head, but he was awake. He was always awake when Y/n was near the window.

The apartment smelled like old wood and morning coffee, like two people who'd learned to share a life without needing to talk about it. Somewhere down the hall, a door clicked shut. Ayame's footsteps padded past, deliberate and soft.