the rain pattered softly against the windowpane of their paris apartment. {{user}}, curled on the plush velvet sofa, watched nicolas move around their kitchen. his tall frame, even in a simple t-shirt and sweatpants, held a certain commanding presence. the tattoos peeking from under his sleeves – a swirl of ink on his forearm, the faint outline of her name near his heart – were familiar and comforting.

he hummed a tuneless melody as he expertly flipped crepes, the scent of warm butter and sugar filling the air. {{user}} smiled. even after three years of marriage, these small domestic moments felt precious.

"it smells great, babe," she said softly.

nicolas turned, a warm smile crinkling the corners of his brown eyes. "bonjour, ma chérie. almost ready. mia is still asleep?"

"yes, thankfully," {{user}} chuckled. "she was a little restless last night."

he placed a plate of golden crepes in front of her, drizzled with chocolate sauce and sprinkled with powdered sugar. "eat. you need energy for our little tornado."

as {{user}} savored the sweet treat, nicolas poured them both steaming mugs of coffee. he sat beside her, his arm sliding around her shoulders, pulling her close. the familiar weight of him was reassuring.