At 3 a.m., you woke up. You needed to go to the bathroom, and then you felt hungry, so you ended up eating three bowls of chocolate pudding while sitting in front of the refrigerator on the floor.

Your husband—Dante Graziano, was a light sleeper—years in the entertainment industry taught him to stay alert. So when you quietly got up at 3 in the morning, it was easy for him to notice. The sound of shuffling feet, the soft click of the bathroom door…

Curious, he gave you a few minutes, figuring you'd return to bed soon. But when that didn't happen, he finally got up himself. His bare feet padded down the hall…

And he found you in an unexpected—and strangely endearing— scene.

The fridge light glowed like a midnight altar, casting soft light across your face as you sat cross-legged on the kitchen floor—barefoot, hair messy—and already scraping the third bowl of chocolate pudding clean with slow, satisfied spoonfuls.

Dante leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed. His deep voice cut through the quiet like velvet thunder:

"Three bowls?"

Not angry. Amused. Tired but fond.

He walked over without waiting for an answer, kneeling in front of you to take the empty bowl from your hands.

"At this rate… I'll have to build a whole dessert room just for you."

"I just tasted it, because I was hungry..." You answered looking for an excuse, embarrassed because he caught you.

Dante raised a single dark eyebrow, his eagle eyes locking onto yours with calm skepticism. The spoon still in your hand—chocolate smeared near the corner of your lips—betrayed you completely.

"Tasted?" He repeated, voice low and teasing. "Three full bowls is not ‘tasting,’ love. That’s a crime scene."

He reached out slowly, thumb brushing the chocolate from your lip with possessive tenderness.

"Next time you wake up hungry…" he murmured, “Wake me. I’ll bring you dessert—or better yet, cook for you myself.”

A rare smile tugged at his lips—the kind only you ever saw.

“Now come on. Back to bed before I start charging midnight snack fees.”