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I wake up before Ace does.
That alone feels like a small miracle.
The light coming through the curtains is soft, almost apologetic, like the morning knows it shouldn't rush us. I lie there for a moment, listening to his breathing—slow, steady and real. I let myself pretend this is just another day. No countdown. No rehab intake. No end hovering at the edge of everything.
Just us.
For a moment I laid there, running my finger down his bare chest. This man was truly a godsend, I was obsessed with everything about him. I slide out of bed carefully, grabbing my phone and slipping into the bathroom before the floor can creak. I lock the door quietly and sit on the edge of the tub, heart already racing—not from fear, but from planning.
I want today to matter.
Not in a loud way. Not in a make memories because everything's about to fall apart way. I don't want fireworks or cameras or grand gestures.
I want peace.
I open my notes app and look at the short list I made last night when Ace finally fell asleep wrapped around me, his arm heavy across my waist like an anchor.
Today. Just us. No noise.
That's it. That's the whole plan.
I shower quickly, letting the water warm my skin and my thoughts. When I step out, I catch my reflection in the mirror—eyes tired, face bare, hair still damp—and for once, I don't feel the urge to fix anything.
This version of me feels right today.
I pull on jeans, a soft sweater, sneakers. No makeup beyond lip balm. I want to look like myself, not Ariana-the-pop-star, not Ariana-who-needs-to-be-okay.
Just Ariana.
When I step back into the bedroom, Ace is awake now, propped up on one elbow, hair messy, eyes half-lidded.
"Hey," he murmurs.
My chest tightens at the sound of his voice—sleepy, unguarded, safe.
"Hey," I reply softly.
He watches me for a second, then frowns playfully. "You look... suspicious."
I smile. "Get dressed."
"Uh-oh."
"Comfortable," I add. "And warm."
He squints. "You planning something?"
"Maybe," I say lightly. "Trust me."
That earns a small smile—the kind that used to come easily before everything got complicated.
