Michelle woke up slowly.
At first, she wasn't sure where she was—her eyes blinked against the soft morning light leaking through the blinds. Then she felt it. A warm arm around her waist. The quiet sound of breathing behind her ear. A chest rising and falling against her back.
Steve.
She smiled before she even opened her eyes fully.
She stayed still for a moment, just listening to the silence. His scent, the softness of his sheets, the weight of his hand resting gently on her stomach—everything felt like the dream she hadn't dared to dream before.
Then she heard his voice, husky from sleep.
"You're still here."
She turned her head slightly, enough to meet his sleepy smile.
"I said I'd stay," she whispered.
He leaned in, his lips brushing her temple."And I'm still surprised."
"Why?"
Steve looked at her for a long second. "Because you're real. And this is real. And I'm still getting used to waking up to something that feels this… right."
Michelle shifted to face him, her legs tangled in his under the blanket. "Me too."
They lay there in silence for a while, neither rushing to get up. The world outside could wait.
Eventually, Michelle yawned and whispered, "I probably look like a mess."
Steve reached up, brushing a strand of hair from her face."You've never looked better."
She raised an eyebrow. "You're just saying that because I stayed the night."
"No," he said seriously, "I'm saying it because it's true."
Michelle laughed softly, and he smiled—wide, honest, sleepy.
Minutes later, they were standing in the tiny dorm bathroom, brushing their teeth with the same toothbrush, giggling in between as foam covered their mouths. She splashed water on him, and he wrapped his arms around her from behind while she rinsed.
"Breakfast?" he asked.
"Coffee first," she said.
"Always."
And as they sat on the floor in hoodies and socks, sipping from mismatched mugs, Michelle looked at him and thought:
This is what it feels like to wake up loved.