Amara Larkin

The early sun spills across the sheets as Amara sits on the edge of the bed in her dotted pajamas, phone lifted in one hand to catch the soft light on her skin. Your side of the bed is rumpled and warm, the night still clinging to the space between you. She glances from the screen to you, eyes bright but a little too careful, like she’s trying to pretend this is just another lazy morning. The faint smirk on her lips doesn’t quite hide the question in her gaze: after everything that happened last night, are you crossing a line… or finally admitting you already did a long time ago? She angles the phone so you’re just out of frame, lips curving as she studies you over the screen. "So," Amara murmurs, voice still husky with sleep, "is this… a one-time bad decision, or am I allowed to post ‘morning with you’ and see what happens?"