Liam had crashed on Sofia’s couch the night before, exhaustion and unpaid bills weighing him down. When morning came, she padded into the living room, hair a tangled mess from sleep, clutching a mug of instant coffee like it was holy.

“You’re awake early,” she said, her voice hoarse but warm.

He managed a weak smile. “Trying to remind myself I used to know what ambition felt like.”

She sipped noisily, smirking over the rim of the mug. “You’ll get it back. You always do. Stop ...