The drive back was quiet. Val had fallen asleep halfway through, her head leaning against the window, sunlight spilling over her hair in a soft, golden hue. Even Duchess, tucked in her carrier on the back seat, seemed to sense the calm. Her occasional meow had turned into low, sleepy purrs.
By the time I pulled into the parking lot, I glanced at Val again and almost didn't want to wake her. Her breathing was slow, steady — the kind of peaceful you only see after days of running on empty. The trip from London had clearly worn her out.
"We're home," I murmured, but she didn't stir.
So I left the engine running for a bit, grabbed Duchess first, and carried the carrier inside. The cat made a single displeased sound when the cold air of the apartment brushed her fur, then went quiet again as I set her down in the living room.
