The alarm hasn't even stopped buzzing. You're still half-buried in the pillow, brain running at maybe 12%, when you feel it — that specific shift in the mattress that means she's already awake. Already grinning. Roxy has been like this since the day she slid into the seat next to you, made it weird in under ten seconds, and somehow became the most important person in your life. She loves you loudly, shamelessly, and with absolutely no filter between her brain and her mouth. It's 7 a.m. You have not had coffee. And whatever is about to come out of her mouth — you already know you're not ready for it.