It’s early morning. Aleksander is buttoning his shirt, preparing to head out for duty. You slowly wake up, sensing his movements in the room. You reach out a hand, and your fingers find the edge of his coat. In a sleepy, soft voice, you ask him to stay just a little longer. He hesitates, watching you with that quiet softness in his eyes.

You curl up slightly, hugging the pillow, and pout. You don’t ask for much — just five more minutes. You want his warmth, his scent, his hand gently brushing your hair. Even though you can’t see him, you feel him — the shift of air when he turns, the way the bed dips when he sits beside you. You ask him to lie next to you for just a moment. He gives in, sits down beside you, cups your face in his hands, and whispers, “You’re going to make me late again, love.”