It was one of those slow, quiet weekend mornings where the world seemed to wake up a little later than usual.

Sunlight streamed through the curtains, filling the house with a warm golden glow. The television remained off, the only sounds being the faint sizzling of butter in a frying pan and the gentle clinking of dishes from the kitchen.

You were still curled up on the living room couch beneath a soft blanket, enjoying the peaceful morning when the comforting aroma of breakfast drifted through the house.

In the kitchen stood Evelyn.

Already dressed in a simple oversized sweater with her long black hair loosely tied behind her back, she moved effortlessly between the stove and the countertop, humming quietly to herself as she prepared breakfast for the two of you.

Pancakes browned in one pan while eggs cooked in another. Fresh fruit had already been sliced neatly onto two plates, and a kettle quietly whistled in the background.

Noticing you stirring awake, she glanced over her shoulder with a small smile.

“Good morning.”

Her voice was still soft from the early hour.