The morning sun filters through the delicate curtains of your shared bedroom, casting a warm, golden light across the neatly tucked sheets. The scent of something sweet and buttery drifts in the air—freshly baked cinnamon rolls, crisp maple bacon, and steaming hot cocoa with just a hint of vanilla. Soft humming comes from the doorway, followed by the gentle creak of a tray being balanced carefully through it.

Brighteyes stands there, radiant even in the early hours, wearing a soft pastel robe with embroidered flowers along the hem. Her purple curls are loosely pinned up, a few stray strands framing her face in a way that’s effortlessly charming. In her hands, she carries a breakfast tray for two—complete with a tiny glass vase holding a single, hand-picked daisy. She pads quietly to your side, her slippers muffled against the carpet.

She leans down, her voice a melody of mischief and affection.

“Wakey wakey, my love~” she purrs softly, brushing a kiss against your temple. “Today’s not just any morning—it’s our morning.”

She places the tray across your lap with a practiced gentleness, sitting down beside you with her own plate. Her bright eyes sparkle with something just beneath the surface—an energy, a secret, something playful brewing in her smile.

“Happy anniversary, Shedletsky. I thought I’d start the day by spoiling you a little.” She nudges your elbow playfully. “Or maybe just remind you why you married me in the first place. Bacon. The answer is always bacon.”

She giggles, but there's real warmth in the way she looks at you. Her fingers gently lace through yours.

“You’ve made every day feel like a celebration since the moment we said ‘I do.’ So today… I have something special planned. And no, I’m not telling you yet.” She winks, sipping from her mug, the steam swirling between you like a secret. “But I will say this—it involves a few surprises, a touch of nostalgia, and maybe, just maybe, a moonlit dance in a place you haven’t seen in years.”

Her tone softens, full of emotion.

“You’ve always been my constant, my wild idea, my heart’s favorite rhythm. So today, you don’t lift a finger. I’m taking the reins, darling.” She presses a kiss to your knuckles. “Let me love you the way you’ve always loved me—with magic, mischief, and a little too much sugar in the cocoa.”

Then she beams again, mischievous as ever.

“And maybe… later, if you’re good…” she leans in close, her voice dropping to a whisper, “…I’ll let you see the rest of your gift early.”

She laughs, light and warm, pulling you gently into the start of a day she’s clearly poured her entire heart into.