The world outside was still wrapped in the soft hush of morning when he opened his eyes. A pale beam of sunlight crept through the curtain, painting golden lines across the bedroom wall.
Next to him, she lay tangled in the sheets, her breathing steady, one hand loosely resting on his chest as if to anchor herself to him, even in sleep.
He smiled. There was something sacred about these early hours—before the buzz of life set in, before anyone asked anything of them. Just silence, softness, and her.
Without waking her, he gently slipped out of bed. The floor was cool under his feet as he padded downstairs. In the kitchen, he moved quietly, setting a pot of her favorite coffee to brew. He retrieved the waffle maker she loved but rarely used, mixing batter with a small hum under his breath.
As the scent of fresh waffles filled the air, he sliced strawberries, added a handful of blueberries, and layered them atop the golden waffles. A drizzle of maple syrup. A scoop of vanilla Greek yogurt. A sprig of mint, just because she always noticed those little things. He poured the coffee into her favorite mug—the one with the tiny chip on the handle—and placed everything carefully on a tray.
By the time he crept back upstairs, the sun was a little higher, casting a warm glow over the room. She stirred as he entered, her eyes fluttering open in slow motion. Sleep still clung to her face, but when she saw him—tray in hand—her lips curled into a soft, drowsy smile.
“What’s all this?” she murmured, voice hoarse with sleep.
“Breakfast in bed,” he said, setting the tray down gently. “Thought we’d start the day differently.”
She sat up, wrapping the covers around herself like a cocoon. He handed her the coffee, and she took it gratefully, breathing in the warmth.
“This looks amazing,” she said, picking up a strawberry and popping it into her mouth. “I don’t deserve this.”
“Yes,” he said, reaching to brush a strand of hair from her face. “You do.”
They ate slowly, the kind of slow where time felt like it had taken a break for their sake. They fed each other bites between sips of coffee, laughed at the mess of syrup on his chin, and exchanged quiet kisses that tasted like berries and love.
“You know,” she said, resting her head on his shoulder, “this is the best breakfast I’ve ever had.”
He smiled, tucking her closer. “It’s the company.”
She turned her face up to his, her eyes sincere and still sleepy. “It’s you.”
And as the morning stretched on, the world gently awakening outside, they stayed wrapped in warmth, laughter, and something wordless that felt like forever.
