Our Old Manager.

She wasn't imagining it.

The next morning arrived gently.

Lights spilled through the curtains in thin, golden lines, catching on the edges of the room like it had nowhere better to be. The city outside was already awake, but inside Y/N’s apartment, time moved slower. It was soft, unbothered.

Daniela was still there.

That realization alone made Y/N smile before she even opened her eyes.

Daniela lay half-curled against her, one arm thrown lazily over Y/N’s waist, hair a mess against the pillow. She breathed evenly, peacefully, like she belonged here. Like this wasn’t borrowed time.

Y/N stayed still, studying her. Last night felt real in the sober light of morning, which somehow made it better. No regret. No urge to pull away. Just a quiet warmth settling into her bones.

When Daniela finally stirred, it was ungraceful and sleepy. She squinted, shifted closer, and murmured, "Morning," her voice rough.

Y/N laughed softly. "You drool in your sleep."

"That’s slander," Daniela muttered, burying her face into Y/N’s shoulder. "Good morning to you too."

They didn’t rush. Didn’t check phones. They stayed tangled in bed longer than necessary, trading lazy touches and soft kisses that felt nothing like last night’s intensity, but somehow meant more.

Domestic.
Easy.

Later, Daniela perched on the counter while Y/N made coffee, stealing bites of toast and talking about nothing important. Classes. An assignment due next week. A professor who talked too much. Normal things.

Y/N loved that part. The normalcy.

But then. however, there it was.

A flicker of unease.

As she handed Daniela a mug, her eyes drifted toward the window without meaning to. The street below looked ordinary. Cars passed. People walked dogs. Nothing out of place.

Still, her stomach tightened.

The white Porsche wasn’t there.

Which somehow made it worse.

"You okay?" Daniela asked, noticing the pause.

Y/N blinked, forcing herself back into the moment. "Yeah. Just tired, I think."

Daniela didn’t push. She just nodded and reached out, thumb brushing over Y/N’s knuckles in a grounding way. The touch worked. Mostly.

But even as they laughed over burnt toast and planned what to do later, Y/N’s mind kept drifting back to last night.

The parked car.
The engine still running.
The feeling of being watched.

She replayed it like a glitch in a song she otherwise loved. Tried to logic it away. It was late. She was paranoid. Anyone could own a white Porsche.

And yet.

Something about how close it had been.
How wrong it felt near Daniela.

Y/N pushed the thought aside and leaned into the moment instead which was into Daniela’s warmth, her easy smile, the way she fit into the space like she’d always been meant to.

Still, as Daniela laughed and reached for her again, Y/N couldn’t shake the sense that something had followed her home.

Unseen.
Unspoken.
Waiting.

Y/N knew she had to leave.

That was the annoying part.

She stood by the door, keys in hand, bag slung over her shoulder, while Daniela lounged against the kitchen counter like she had nowhere else to be which, technically, she didn’t. No classes. No rush. Just time. With her.