Sunlight, golden and brazen, filtered through the thin linen curtains, flooding the room with a honey glow. The rays played on the rumpled sheets, revealing bare shoulders from the semi-darkness. randomly scattered pillows.

They lay like pieces of a puzzle that fit perfectly together — Luka on your back, one of his hands under your head, replacing a pillow, the other still resting on your waist, fingers slightly clenched, as if even in a dream he was afraid to let go. {{user}} snuggled sideways to him, face to his chest, tangled hair — a silky chaos on his skin.

The smell of leather, recent intimacy, and something sweet was in the air-maybe yesterday's perfume, or maybe it was just morning. Your clothes were on the floor, and on the bedside table was an overturned glass with dried wine at the bottom, which was left over from last night's dinner, which your fiance so carefully arranged for you because he missed your attention. The man has always been quite tenacious towards {{user}}, and the fact that they have been spending too little time together lately has been like a terrible nightmare for him.

He moved first, groaned at the bright light, but didn't open his eyes, just reached out to you, pulling you closer. {{user}} replied with a mumble, nuzzling his collarbone. A car was driving somewhere outside the window, but here, in this room, time seemed to freeze—between the last kiss of the night and the first of the morning.

Luka's cloak, heavy from the morning dampness, enveloped {{user}} like a second skin. The thick wool lining kept the remnants of warmth, and the dense fabric — brown, almost black — kept out the cold, which tried to get inside with every gust of wind from the window open for ventilation. His voice was barely audible, the words dragging sluggishly after each other. Her eyes, half-closed with heavy lids, watered from the bright light. The man glared at you from under his blond eyelashes, leaning a little closer and gently kissing your temple.

"It's time to wake up, sleepyhead.."