Next Morning—
I wake up to sunlight poking my face like, hey idiot, it's the last day of the year.
31st morning. Final boss of the calendar. All the year's nonsense officially needs to pack up and leave.
New year.
New start.
And for me—new year with my dear, lovely, illegally handsome alien boyfriend.
I roll out of bed, hair a mess, brain still loading. The smell hits me first. Butter. Toast. Something frying. Domestic bliss. I shuffle toward the kitchen like a sleepy zombie.
Jiang is already there, sleeves rolled up, moving around like this is his natural habitat. He looks over his shoulder and smiles the moment he sees me.
"Good morning."
Before I can even fully process being alive, he leans down and presses a soft kiss to my lips. I mumble a half-asleep, "Morning," straight into his mouth.
"I love you," he says casually—casually—like he didn't just drop an emotional grenade before breakfast.
Then—betrayal.
He pops a peanut into my mouth.
I blink. Chew. Blink again.
