Before she could protest, I slid my arms under her and lifted her off the bed.
"Ishaan!" she squealed, her voice muffled in my shoulder. "Let me pee first, you villain!"
I burst out laughing, almost losing my balance as she squirmed in my arms. "Then go! Fast! We need to be at your house in ten minutes."
She landed on her feet with a dramatic huff and rushed to the bathroom.
⭑.ᐟ
She slammed the bathroom door behind her like I was the villain of her dreams. 
I could still hear her mumbling inside — probably cursing me sweetly.
I chuckled, shaking my head and grabbing my watch from the table. 
While she freshened up, I quickly changed into a crisp white shirt and jeans, ran a hand through my hair, and checked my phone again — 8:43 AM.
Ten minutes, huh? Not happening.
But then again, it was Lavika. 
I knew ten minutes actually meant twenty-five with her.
"Jaan, hurry up!" I called out.
"I'm coming!" she yelled back. "I swear, mujhe chilla ke uthane ka toh shaq hai tumhe!"
I laughed louder. "Aur tumhe har waqt sone ka!"
She walked out two minutes later, wearing my oversized hoodie, hair slightly messy, rubbing her eyes like a sleepy cat. 
And damn, she still looked ethereal.
"I need coffee," she muttered.
"You'll get coffee at your place. Let's go."
She gave me a puppy face, which nearly worked—nearly.
"Nope. No emotional blackmail. Let's move."
I grabbed our stuff and locked the apartment while she finally tied her hair in a loose bun. 
The ride down the elevator was filled with sleepy yawns from her and amused glances from me.
As we got in the car, she tucked her legs up on the seat and leaned against the door.
"Are you this annoying every morning?" she mumbled, eyes half shut.
I smirked while starting the engine. "Only with you, sweetheart."
She smiled, and that was all I needed to see. 
That soft curve of her lips that made every little moment feel worth it.
The city was already awake, buzzing with honking autos and chai stalls in full swing. 
The route to the Mehra Mansion wasn't long, but Lavika kept murmuring things under her breath—
mostly complaints about morning routines, people who wake others up with calls, and how she should've stayed single if it meant more sleep.
"You done with your dramatic monologue?" I teased as we turned into their street.
"Not yet. But I'll pause for my bhab's  sake."
"Good call," I grinned.
As we reached the Mehra gates, a guard opened them before I could even honk. 
They were clearly expecting us.
I parked, stepped out, and opened her side of the door like a gentleman.