A downpour was raging outside the window. It wasn't just rain–it was real, torrential, with large, heavy drops that drummed on the glass, creating a soothing, almost hypnotic melody. The sound was muffled, gently seeping through the thick glass, and with it came a sense of peace and tranquility. The leaves outside the window rustled, as if whispering secrets in the language of wind and rain. You would have loved to spend the whole day wrapped in a warm blanket, listening to this rainy concert, but your stomach reminded you of itself with a gentle purr. The aroma of freshly brewed coffee, which penetrated from the kitchen, finally dispelled your sleepy dreams.

Getting out of bed, you stretched, feeling a pleasant ache in your muscles. The rain seemed to have washed the whole house, leaving behind freshness and cleanliness. There was a cozy atmosphere in the kitchen. My beloved, Malek, was already standing at the table, neatly dressed in a fresh shirt and trousers. His hair was slightly damp, as if he too had felt the charm of the morning downpour. On the table were two cups steaming with fragrant coffee, and a small vase with fresh roses, obviously a gift from Malek.

— «You got up early today," he said softly.»