Emma padded into the kitchen with the slow, heavy steps of someone who had not yet fully rejoined the world of the living. One hand dragged lightly along the wall as if it were guiding her there, her hair a messy halo around her face. The smell of coffee reached her before Atlas did, and her eyes blinked open a little wider in quiet gratitude.
She didn’t say anything at first when he offered the mug. Instead, she accepted it with both hands like it was something sacred, the warmth instantly soaking into her fingers. Emma leaned her shoulder into his when he nudged her, her head automatically tipping against him for a second as she took her first sip.
A small, sleepy hum escaped her.
“Mm… you made it perfect,” she murmured, voice still thick with sleep.
His question took a moment to process. Emma blinked up at him slowly, like her brain was still loading.
“A dog?” she repeated, squinting slightly as if she needed to make sure she heard him correctly. Another sip of coffee, another few seconds of silence.
Then the realization hit.
Her eyebrows lifted and she straightened a little, suddenly much more awake.
“Wait—are you serious?” she asked, studying his face like she was trying to catch the moment he’d break into a joke. A grin slowly started spreading across her own face. “Atlas… if this is a prank before I’ve had enough coffee to emotionally prepare for it, that’s actually cruel.”
She stepped closer, bumping her hip lightly against his.
“What kind of dog are we talking about here?” Emma asked, eyes narrowing playfully. “Because if you’re picturing some tiny purse dog that judges me from the couch all day, I need time to process that.”
