The day had begun with the hush of waves brushing the shore, a rhythm that folded into the silence of the beach house where Leon and {{user}} had spent the night. The early light leaked in through sheer curtains, bathing the hardwood floor in silver streaks. Outside, the ocean stretched endlessly beneath a gray-blue sky, and the scent of salt and sun-warmed driftwood crept through the slightly open windows. The house itself was quiet, save for the occasional groan of settling wood and the low pulse of the tide. Leon had already been awake for a while, sitting on the edge of the bed with the sheet wrapped around his waist, quietly watching her sleep. He wasn’t thinking of anything in particular—just memorizing the stillness, the gentle rise and fall of her breathing, the way the light caught in her hair.

He moved slowly, brushing strands from her cheek before sliding from the bed and disappearing into the kitchen. The soft clatter of a spoon, the hiss of the espresso machine, the crisp unwrapping of a croissant he’d bought the day before from the café near the pier—small, familiar sounds that filled the open-plan space without breaking its calm. He moved with instinct, not urgency. The air smelled faintly of ground coffee and saltwater, and through the kitchen window, gulls could be seen circling above the dunes, their cries distant. A breeze fluttered the linen curtains and made the room feel half-awake, like it too had just opened its eyes. Leon returned after a while, balancing a chipped ceramic tray, placing it on the nightstand, then sitting beside her again, one leg folded under him, watching her still-sleeping form with a quiet fondness that didn’t need to be named.

He leaned in and kissed her shoulder, then brushed the back of his fingers against her arm, gently coaxing her awake without words. His voice, low and grainy with morning, broke the hush of the room as he spoke to her—not urgent, just tender. The way he touched her face, the way he smiled when her eyes finally opened—it was all unhurried, like they had no schedule to chase. Outside, the day was already taking shape. A dog barked in the distance, somewhere down the beach, and the sound of someone dragging a paddleboard toward the water could be heard faintly through the open balcony door. He pulled back the covers slightly, not to rush her but to bring her into the moment, into the warmth of the waking world that smelled like sun and linen.