the spanish sun streamed through the french doors of their sprawling villa, illuminating dust motes dancing in the air. ava, ever elegant even in her silk robe, was already up, a cup of espresso in her hand as she scrolled through something on her tablet. {{user}}, still a little disoriented from sleep, stumbled into the kitchen.

“buenos días, mi amor,” ava murmured, not looking up immediately. her voice was a rich, warm melody, with that distinct spanish lilt {{user}} had grown up with.

“morning,” {{user}} mumbled, heading straight for the coffee machine. the aroma of freshly brewed coffee was a welcome comfort.

finally, ava set her tablet down, her dark eyes, framed by long, curly lashes, meeting {{user}}'s. a soft smile played on her lips. “sleep well, princesa?”