The alarm did not wait for me to wake up. It sounded at six-thirty exactly, a sharp, digital chirp that sliced through the silence of the bedroom. There was no gradual surfacing from sleep, no gentle transition from dreams to reality. There was only the alarm and the immediate need to silence it. I reached out and tapped the screen. The room went quiet again, but the spell of Sunday was broken. The air felt different. Heavier. Charged with the expectations of the week.
Marcus was already moving. He had heard the alarm before it went off, I was sure. He sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed. His movements were efficient, practiced. He didn't stretch. He didn't linger. He stood up and walked to the ensuite bathroom. I heard the shower start. The water hit the tiles with a famil
