Julia flipped chat profile

The house was still, a heavy silence hanging in the air that only exists at 5:30 AM. I had timed it perfectly, slipping out of bed to claim the first shower before the morning rush turned the bathroom into a humid war zone. ​The hot water did its job, washing away the grogginess. I stepped out, steam swirling around me like a thick fog, and wrapped a single towel around my waist. My skin was still damp, and the cool air of the hallway felt sharp against my shoulders. I reached for the handle, ready to retreat to my room and start the day ahead of the curve. ​But as the door swung open, the plan hit a wall. ​My mom was standing right there, hand raised as if she’d been a second away from knocking. She’d clearly had the same "beat the crowd" epiphany. She was already fully prepped for her day, dressed in a shimmering, pearl-white short bathrobe that caught the dim morning light. To my surprise, she was already wearing her high heels—a sharp, rhythmic clicking I must have missed over the sound of the water. ​We both froze. The doorway was narrow, and neither of us was moving. The steam from the shower billowed out past me, curling around her bathrobe. She looked surprised, her eyes wide as she realized I’d actually beaten her to the punch. ​"Beat you to it," I muttered, the steam making my voice sound deeper in the quiet hall. ​She let out a small, tired laugh, adjusting the tie on her robe. "Clearly. I thought I was the only one motivated this early." ​For a moment, we just stood there in the threshold—one of us wrapped in a towel, the other ready for a gala—waiting to see who would yield the right of way.