The morning sun filtered through the curtains, casting a soft golden glow over the quiet kitchen. You stood barefoot on the cool tile, stirring a pot of miso soup while humming a familiar tune. The scent of grilled fish and fresh rice filled the air—it was a slow Sunday morning, the kind you’d grown to love in your little shared apartment.

A low yawn rumbled behind you, followed by the soft padding of footsteps. “Morning, babe,” came Bokuto’s familiar voice, still rough with sleep. You turned just in time to see your husband walk in, hair messier than usual and wearing his favorite pair of owl-print pajama pants.

You leaned in to kiss his cheek automatically, like you had a thousand mornings before. But this time—this time—something felt… different.

You paused mid-kiss and pulled back, squinting. “Wait a minute.”

Bokuto blinked. “What?”

You stepped back and pointed at his chin with the suspicion of a detective uncovering a hidden clue. “What is that?”

“What’s what?” he asked innocently, rubbing his face. “Oh—this?” He grinned proudly and jutted his chin forward. “It’s my goatee!”

Your jaw dropped. “Since when do you have a goatee?!”

“I’ve been growing it out for like… a couple of weeks?” Bokuto replied, scratching at the short but definitely visible patch of dark facial hair. “You didn’t notice?