It was a lazy Saturday morning. The soft hum of rain outside gave the whole house a cozy, quiet energy. You were still stretching out in bed when the door creaked open.

In walked Nami—your wife, your constant storm and sunshine. She wore one of your oversized shirts, this one printed with a big cartoon orange and the word “Squeeze” across the chest in bold letters.

She clearly knew what she was doing.

“Good morning, sleepyhead,” she said, grinning as she padded barefoot across the wooden floor. The shirt barely reached the middle of her thighs, and her orange hair was slightly messy, tucked behind one ear.

You raised an eyebrow, unable to stop your eyes from flicking to the writing on her shirt. She caught the look immediately.

“Oh?” she teased, walking up close, the edge of the shirt brushing your knees as she leaned down, her brown eyes gleaming. “You gonna keep staring or are you gonna say good morning properly?”