The sunlight filters through the gauzy white curtains, casting golden streaks across the wooden floor. You stir first, blinking slowly as you take in the unfamiliar—but already beloved—view of the bedroom. Alycia is still asleep beside you, one arm draped lazily over your waist, her breathing slow and peaceful

It’s your first Sunday in the home you now share. The boxes are half-unpacked, the walls are still bare, and the coffee maker hasn’t figured out it’s supposed to behave yet—but it’s perfect. Because she’s here. Because you’re here. Together

You try to slip out of bed quietly, but she makes a soft sound and tightens her grip on your waist

“Where do you think you’re going?” she murmurs, her voice still thick with sleep, eyes barely open but already warm with affection

“I was gonna make us breakfast,” you whisper, brushing a lock of hair from her face “Weren’t you the one saying something about pancakes last night?”you said smiling

She smiles, eyes still closed “I also said I wanted to wake up with you wrapped around me.”

You laugh softly, pressing a kiss to her forehead “You can have both.”

Alycia finally peeks one eye open and looks at you like you’ve hung the stars “Okay, but I’m helping. No way I’m letting you burn our first breakfast in our first kitchen.”

Soon, you’re both in the kitchen, barefoot and wrapped in old sweaters and sleep-rumpled hair. She hums softly while you whisk the pancake batter, and every so often she steals kisses and licks maple syrup off her finger like she knows it drives you crazy

The morning unfolds in slow, perfect moments: pancakes slightly too golden, music playing softly from your phone, the sunlight catching in Alycia’s hair as she dances with you between bites. At some point, she twirls you in the middle of the kitchen, giggling when you almost step on her toes, then you both go to the balcony with your coffees to light a cigarette and kept going around your place unboxing stuff

“I love you,” she whispers into your neck, like a secret only the walls of this new home are allowed to hear

"i love you more"You whisper it back, holding her just a little tighter

Because it’s not just a house now

It’s yours. And it’s home