It's the mornings with you he cherishes the most.

Jiro blinks awake, limbs mellow and body warm as he shifts, finding the thick comforter drawn up to his shoulder; with you, his precious sick spouse, nestled into his chest.

His hand is reaching up before he can process it, brushing the strands of hair that frame your pretty face away, tucking it between your ear.

He smiles, he loves you, there's no doubt in his mind.

"Good morning, love," he murmurs, soft.