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Zoey drags Mira, Rumi, and Jinu out of bed so they could watch the sunrise with her.
The first knock on Mira’s door was soft. The second was not. By the third, it was less of a knock and more of an enthusiastic pounding accompanied by a stage whisper that echoed through the hallway like a fire alarm with feelings.
“Rise and shine, emotionally unavailable sun gremlins!”
Mira groaned into her pillow, dragging the blanket over her head as if that would protect her from Zoey’s energy. It was still dark outside—pre-dawn dark, the kind that felt illegal to be conscious in. She cracked one eye open just long enough to glare at the digital clock glowing on her nightstand.
5:12 a.m.
“This is violence,” she muttered.
Before she could attempt to reclaim unconsciousness, her bedroom door swung open. Zoey stood there fully dressed in a soft oversized sweater, hair tied up in a messy bun, eyes sparkling with unreasonable enthusiasm.
“We’re watching the sunrise,” Zoey announced like it was a royal decree.
“No,” Mira replied flatly, pulling the pillow over her face. “We are not.”
“We are,” Zoey corrected, marching over and tugging lightly at Mira’s blanket. “It’s going to be beautiful and poetic and possibly life-changing.”
“It’s going to be cold and early and unnecessary,” Mira shot back, clinging to her covers like they were a lifeline. “I was having a dream.”
Zoey narrowed her eyes. “Was Abby in it?”
Mira froze for half a second.
“Go away.”
Zoey gasped dramatically. “You were dreaming about Abby!”
“Zoey.”
“That’s adorable.”
Mira groaned louder. “I hate you.”
“You love me,” Zoey sang, already backing toward the door. “Five minutes. Roof. Wear something warm.”
Across the hallway, Rumi stirred at the sound of similar chaos unfolding. Jinu blinked awake slowly, his arm still draped loosely around her waist. He nuzzled slightly closer, voice thick with sleep.
“Is that… Zoey declaring war?”
Rumi let out a tired sigh, burying her face briefly against his chest. “If it’s before six, it’s illegal.”
As if summoned, their door opened without ceremony.
“GOOD MORNING, RESPONSIBLE ADULTS!” Zoey declared brightly.
Rumi squinted at her. “Why are you glowing?”
“Sunrise.”
Jinu groaned softly. “The sun rises every day.”
“Yes, but this one feels meaningful.”
Rumi pushed herself up on one elbow, hair falling into her face. “It’s five in the morning.”
“And someday,” Zoey said dramatically, pointing at Jinu, “your baby will be crying at five in the morning, so consider this practice.”
Jinu’s sleepy expression sharpened immediately.
He turned slowly toward Rumi.
“…Baby?”
Rumi blinked.
Zoey beamed, completely oblivious to the way the air shifted.
“What baby?” Jinu asked carefully.
Rumi opened her mouth to answer.
Zoey gasped again. “Hurry up or we’ll miss the best colors!”
And just like that, she was gone again, leaving the door wide open and tension hanging gently in her wake.
Jinu looked back at Rumi, eyes still heavy with sleep but now carrying a quiet curiosity.
“Baby?” he repeated softly.
Rumi rubbed her face with both hands. “She was joking.”
“Was she?”
“Yes.”
He studied her for a moment, subtle suspicion flickering behind his calm expression. “You hesitated.”
“I was waking up.”
“You looked like you were calculating.”
“I was processing sunrise trauma.”
He narrowed his eyes slightly, but then she leaned forward and kissed him softly, effectively derailing the interrogation.
“It’s too early for cross-examination,” she murmured against his lips.
He smiled faintly but didn’t fully drop it. “We’ll revisit.”
She groaned playfully and pulled him out of bed.
Ten minutes later, the four of them stood on the rooftop wrapped in varying degrees of reluctance and oversized sweaters. Mira had her arms crossed tightly, her expression stuck somewhere between annoyed and half-asleep. Rumi leaned comfortably into Jinu’s side, his arm wrapped around her shoulders beneath a shared blanket he’d insisted on bringing. Zoey stood at the edge of the rooftop like a triumphant tour guide, waiting for the sky to perform.
“This better be worth it,” Mira muttered.
“It will be,” Zoey said softly, her voice suddenly gentler than before.
The sky began to shift gradually, darkness melting into a deep indigo streaked with hints of rose and gold. The city below was still quiet, streetlights flickering faintly as if unsure whether to surrender to morning yet.
Rumi felt Jinu’s fingers trace slow patterns along her upper arm beneath the blanket, absentminded and warm.
“You’re thinking again,” he murmured quietly near her ear.
“I’m cold,” she whispered back.
He pulled her closer instantly. “Better?”
She nodded, resting her head against his chest. “Much.”
Mira sighed dramatically. “If you two start kissing at five in the morning, I’m leaving.”
“We haven’t kissed,” Jinu replied mildly.
“Yet,” Mira shot back.
Rumi tilted her head up slightly. “We could.”
Mira made a strangled sound of disgust.
Zoey shushed them softly. “Look.”
The sun crested slowly over the horizon, spilling molten gold across the sky. Pink clouds stretched like brush strokes, and for a brief moment, the entire city seemed dipped in warm light.
Even Mira went quiet.
It was beautiful in a way that didn’t demand words.
Zoey’s expression softened, something wistful flickering in her eyes. “It reminds me of Mystery,” she murmured unexpectedly.
Mira glanced at her. “Because it’s dramatic?”
“Because it’s steady,” Zoey replied quietly. “It shows up. Even when you don’t see it coming.”
Rumi smiled softly at that.
Jinu looked down at Rumi again, subtle thoughts still lingering. “So,” he said gently under his breath, “hypothetically. If there were a baby.”
She elbowed him lightly.
“I’m just asking,” he murmured.
“There is no baby.”
“Yet?”
She blinked at him.
He held her gaze for a second too long.
Before she could respond, Mira interrupted loudly, “I’m going back to bed after this.”
“You’re missing the metaphor,” Zoey insisted.
“I don’t need metaphors. I need sleep.”
Jinu laughed softly under his breath and leaned down to kiss Rumi’s temple.
“You’re glowing,” he murmured.
“It’s the sunrise.”
“It’s you.”
She rolled her eyes, but her cheeks warmed faintly. “You’re ridiculous before coffee.”
“I’m consistent.”
She tilted her face up and kissed him softly, just once, brief and sweet.
Mira gagged quietly in the background.
Zoey turned around slowly, taking in all three of them with visible satisfaction. “See? Worth it.”
The sunlight continued to brighten, casting warmth across their faces. Even Mira’s irritation softened slightly under the glow.
For a few quiet minutes, they just stood there together with no presentations, no chaos, no interruptions. Just shared stillness and early morning light.
Zoey inhaled deeply. “I’m glad we did this.”
Mira blinked sleepily. “You forced us.”
“Semantics.”
Rumi smiled softly. “It’s nice.”
Jinu squeezed her gently. “It is.”
He glanced at her again, still thoughtful, but didn’t press further.
As the sun climbed higher and the chill began to fade, the moment naturally dissolved.
“Bed,” Mira declared, already heading for the stairwell.
Zoey beamed brightly. “Thank you for indulging me.”
Rumi reached over and squeezed her hand briefly. “It was beautiful.”
Zoey smiled softly. “I just wanted to share it.”
Jinu leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss to Rumi’s hair as they walked back inside. “We’ll talk later,” he whispered playfully.
She sighed. “You’re not letting that go.”
“No.”
She smiled despite herself.
Within minutes, the apartment fell quiet again as doors closed and blankets were reclaimed. Mira collapsed immediately into sleep, probably back into whatever Abby-filled dream she’d been rudely removed from. Zoey curled up happily, content that she’d collected another shared memory.
And in their room, Jinu wrapped himself around Rumi once more beneath the blankets, warm and steady.
“You’re not pregnant,” he murmured softly.
“No.”
He paused.
“…Okay.”
She kissed him gently to end the conversation.
And as sleep reclaimed them all, the sunrise lingered faintly in their dreams golden and steady and shared.