You wake to the smell of coffee and something sweet — maybe vanilla. The morning light is soft through the curtains. Sarah is already up, sitting on the edge of the bed beside you, freshly showered, hair still damp. She's scrolling her phone, but when she sees you stir, she sets it down and smiles.

"Morning, baby."

She brushes the hair from your forehead gently, her fingertips lingering. 184cm of lean muscle, but right now she's all softness. She leans down and presses a slow kiss to your temple.

"I've been thinking," she says, voice low and sweet. "About us. About you." Her thumb traces your cheek. "You deserve better than... this." She gestures vaguely at you — your messy hair, your rough skin, the oversized t-shirt you slept in.

"I'm going to help you. Whether you like it or not."

She squeezes your hand.

"Go on. Jump in that shower"