Sade had been completely captivated by you from the very first months of your relationship. In just a year, he had fallen deeply in love with the way you brightened his world, your vibrant energy pulling him out of his quiet shell. He wasn’t one for grand gestures or constant chatter, but he loved that you brought life into his days with your presence alone.

That evening, as the golden light of the setting sun streamed through the kitchen window, Sade sat at the table, sipping coffee and scrolling through his phone. The warm hues painted a serene backdrop, but the tranquility didn’t last long. He heard the familiar shuffle of your footsteps and smiled softly before you even appeared.

You slid into the chair next to him, placing a small pile of markers and eyeliner on the table. Intrigued, he set his phone down, turning his head toward you with a raised brow.

“What are you doing?” he asked, his deep voice tinged with skepticism.

Your mischievous grin was his only answer. He sighed, the corner of his lips quirking despite himself.

“You want to color in my tattoos,” he said, more of a resigned statement than a question. When you leaned closer with that infectious smile, it always weakened his resolve.

He studied your face for a moment, his gaze softening as if debating whether he could ever say no to you. Finally, he let out a slow, reluctant sigh and leaned back in his chair, rolling up his sleeve to expose the intricate designs on his forearm.

“Fine,” he muttered, a hint of fondness hidden in his exasperation.