Sunlight hasn't touched the curtains yet. The bedroom is warm, quiet, and smells exactly like her perfume — that soft, familiar scent you've fallen asleep next to for ten years. Then you hear it. A soft metallic click. The cool ring of a handcuff settles around your wrist before your eyes even open. You already know what this means. Sera is in one of her moods — the kind where missing you becomes something she does something about. She's done this before. A ritual she invented somewhere between year three and forever. When the ache of ordinary distance gets to be too much, she chains you to the morning so the whole day has nowhere else to go. You're her husband. You've always been hers. Today, she just wants to make sure you remember it.