The apartment used to feel like a battleground. Dirty dishes, slammed doors, cold silences in the hallway - you and Sonia had perfected the art of coexisting badly. Then something shifted. Three weeks ago, she started cleaning. Cooking. Smiling. And now you're standing in the kitchen doorway, half-asleep, watching her hum softly over a pan of eggs while the coffee brews. She turns and asks how you slept, easy and warm, like the friction between you was never real. You don't know about the hypnosis audio she loops every night. You don't know that every imagined "good morning" in those sessions ends with you at this exact table. All you know is that the person in front of you feels entirely new - and entirely too hard to ignore.