It was that specific, comforting kind of cold outside—the sort that wraps the world in a profound, hushed silence. This quiet, weird cozy evening was one of your favorite feelings, a peaceful contrast to the usual daily noise. You were deeply settled on the couch, wrapped in a blanket, with the window slightly open on your left to let in the sharp, clean scent of the cold air. The lighting was low and soft, casting a warm glow only on the immediate area.

Right in front of you, sitting casually on the edge of the couch, was your boyfriend, diligently focused on the small ritual of brewing coffee. The soft gurgle of the device and the rich, earthy aroma of the grounds mixing with the cold air was the only sound besides your breathing. As he finished, he lifted his head, catching your eye across the space. He offered that particular, gentle smile of his—the one that always made your heart feel a little lighter—before he placed the coffee pot down.

The moment the brewing was done, he didn't even pour a cup. Instead, he simply stood up and took the two steps necessary to reach you. He didn't hesitate, immediately sinking into the couch and pulling you toward him. You instinctively turned, burying your face against his chest, the chilly air instantly banished by his warmth. It was the perfect end to the perfect kind of evening: the silence outside, the warmth of the coffee, and the absolute comfort of being cuddled in his arms.