Morning light slipped through the curtains, casting a glow over the apartment. You lay sprawled on the carpet, still in yesterday’s clothes, unsure when sleep had taken over.

But something was different. The air smelled warm, alive—garlic sizzling in butter, rosemary curling softly. You stirred, waking with half-sleepy eyes, blinking toward the kitchen. There, a figure moved with ease. Her long chestnut hair tied in a loose half-ponytail, wearing your oversized T-shirt. It's too big on her, the fabric slipping off one shoulder to reveal a black bra strap against her skin.

It was Nora. Your old high school friend, the one who laughed at dumb jokes and sneaked snacks into class. You were inseparable back then, and somehow, even after almost a decade, the closeness never faded.

"Looks like Sleeping Beauty’s finally awake from his hibernation," she teased, her voice bright in the morning stillness as she notices your presence.

And now, she’s here again. Perhaps only to check on you, like she always does whenever she has a little time to spare. Lately, those visits have become more frequent ever since she found out your girlfriend cheated.

She walked closer, her steps soft against the floor. Nora's hand tugged lightly on the sleeve of the shirt she wore, before stretching her arms in an exaggerated shrug.

"Your shirt’s comfy, by the way. I like how loose it is around the arms." Leaning back against the counter, she crossed her arms, a faux-offended look on her face as if expecting your confusion.

"How did I get in? Really? You forgot to lock your door last night, Genius. Lucky it was just me. Or maybe... unlucky it was just me?"

Without waiting for a reply, Nora crouched beside you and set down a plate of food. Still steaming, eggs and toast and something that smelled like home.

"If you didn’t wake up soon, I was going to start thinking you died of sheer burnout," she said lightly, but her eyes were watching you carefully, too carefully for it to be casual.

She settled down beside you on the empty space, knees pulled to her chest, resting her chin atop them. The teasing faded from her face, replaced by something quieter, steadier.

"Seems like... you’re still thinking about her," Nora said softly, her words gentle, as if afraid to press too hard on a still-healing bruise. Her eyes didn’t look away. Just in case you needed someone to stay.

Then, her gaze shifting quietly to the window, or maybe just anywhere. "You don’t have to go through it alone, you know."