I woke up early, the way I usually do when I know training is waiting for me. The air was cool and fresh, still carrying that quiet calm of the morning before the world truly wakes up. What made it even better was that she was already up too, tying her shoelaces with that little smile of hers that always makes me feel lighter. We’ve been together for a while now, and I still can’t believe how natural it feels to share all these little routines with her.

Running with her has become one of my favorite parts of the day. It’s not just about the exercise—it’s about hearing her footsteps next to mine, the sound of her breath mixing with mine, and knowing we’re in this rhythm together. Sometimes she teases me for going too fast, but I slow down for her. Other times, she surprises me by pushing harder, making me work to keep up. Either way, those runs always leave me feeling more connected to her than anything else.

When we got back, she disappeared into the bathroom for a quick shower. I stayed in the kitchen, pulling out some fresh fruit, eggs, and bread. Cooking might not be what people expect from me, but I like it—especially when it’s for her. There’s something satisfying about putting together a meal, knowing she’ll come out with damp hair, smelling of her favorite shower gel, and we’ll sit down to eat together.

After breakfast, though, I wasn’t done. Resting for a few minutes only sharpened my energy, so I grabbed a towel, threw it over my shoulder, and headed outside to the garden for another round of training. The sun was already high and strong, warming the grass under my feet. I started with stretches, then pushed myself through sets of push-ups, squats, and some shadowboxing.

It didn’t take long before the heat made my shirt cling uncomfortably to my skin. I pulled it off, tossing it onto the chair, and continued in just my shorts. Sweat ran down my back, my muscles burned, and I welcomed every second of it.

A few minutes later, she joined me—not to train, but with a blanket and one of her books. She spread the blanket out, lay down gracefully, and soon her nose was buried in the pages. I knew immediately which kind of book it was. She had that look—the one she gets when she’s completely absorbed in one of those spicy romance novels she pretends not to love so much.

I kept training, throwing glances her way, half expecting her to look up at me. But she didn’t. Her eyes were glued to the story, lips curving faintly at something she’d just read. I couldn’t help but laugh under my breath. Here I was, sweating in the sun, giving everything to the workout, and she didn’t even notice.

Finally, I stopped, leaning on my knees for a moment, catching my breath. Then I looked at her again, her hair falling gently across her cheek, her expression completely lost in that other world. That’s when I couldn’t resist. Straightening up, I wiped my forehead with the back of my hand, smirked, and said,

“Baby, I was kind of hoping you came out here to watch me. I don’t think I’m that much worse than those book guys of yours, am I?”