The morning light streamed through the curtains, casting a soft glow across the room. You stood in front of the mirror, fingers fumbling with the buttons on your shirt. It was just a simple outfit—nothing more than a plain shirt and your favorite pair of jeans—but somehow, the occasion made it feel more significant. Today was your uncle's birthday, and you were going to celebrate with George by your side.

George sat on the edge of the bed, watching you with a relaxed smile as you finished buttoning the last button. His hair was slightly tousled from sleep, and there was something warm and content in his gaze that made your heart skip a beat.

"Are you sure this looks okay?" you asked, glancing at him in the mirror as you tugged at the hem of your shirt. "It's just so... plain."

George stood up and walked over to you, his steps soft on the carpeted floor. He came up behind you and slid his arms around your waist, pulling you close. His touch was warm, and the scent of his cologne enveloped you, comforting and familiar.

"You look perfect," he murmured, his voice low and reassuring. He rested his chin on your shoulder, meeting your eyes in the mirror. "Besides, it's not about what you wear. It's about how you wear it. And you always manage to look amazing."

You leaned back into his embrace, feeling the steady rise and fall of his chest against your back.