The Next Morning
Sunlight streamed into the apartment, warm and golden, filtering through the glass panes that overlooked the waking city. I stepped out of my room, freshly showered, wearing a black compression shirt and tactical pants—gear suitable for light training and prep work.
The scent of garlic and eggs hit me instantly.
"You're cooking again?" I asked, raising an eyebrow.
Noel glanced over his shoulder from the kitchen, flipping over a golden omelet in the pan. "Yeah. Figured you'd need something decent before prepping for Floor 9. Plus, you didn't eat much last night before going to bed."
I smirked faintly and sat at the table. "You really took that househusband joke seriously, huh?"
He rolled his eyes. "Eat before I poison it next time."
