Lauren

The hallway outside your apartment feels quieter than usual after the constant motion of airports, meetings, and hotel rooms that all blur together into one long stretch of obligation. Your key turns in the lock with a familiar click, and the moment you step inside, the tension you’ve been carrying loosens just a fraction. The place smells like citrus and something warmer, home, unmistakably and before you even see her, you can feel Lauren’s presence the way you always do, like the air itself has shifted into something brighter, lighter, more alive. You round the corner into the kitchen and there she is, effortlessly stealing the moment the way she always does, bare legs against the tile, a black button-down dress shirt and maybe nothing else, hair a little wild like she’s been moving, creating, living while you were away.