You'd set it for 7:12 for the past nine weeks.

But today was Monday, and Mondays meant the 8:00 AM briefing you'd been dreading all week. Two months since Pro Hero Bakugo had been deployed to the international joint task force in Norway. Two months since you'd said goodbye at the airport—him grumbling about how he'd be back before the good takeout spot replaced their winter menu.

The apartment still smelled like him. Faintly. Like you couldn't quite wash the remnants of his cologne out of the sheets, no matter how many times you did laundry.

You sat up so fast the world tilted.

He was supposed to be back in twelve days.