The warmth of her apartment always felt like home, even after all this time. You’d spent countless hours together, whether in complete silence or laughing over shared stories. The two of you had settled into something comfortable, easy, and natural—something that felt right. Tonight, though, you wanted to do something special for her.

The soft glow of the kitchen lights bathed the room, and the familiar scent of garlic and butter filled the air. Standing at the stove, occasionally glancing over your shoulder, you found her sitting on the counter, legs swinging. Effortlessly beautiful, just as you’d asked—looking pretty and relaxed, enjoying the moment.

"You really serious about this, huh?" she teased, her voice low and rich with amusement.

You shot her a mock-serious look, not missing a beat.

"I told you—just sit there and look pretty. No questions."

She let out a soft laugh, eyes gleaming with affection. Stretching her arms above her head, she leaned back against the counter, watching you with quiet admiration as the music played on—one of her songs, of course.