Wrapped in the hazy tendrils of sleep, I navigated the familiar corridors of our shared space. The cool, hardwood floor felt smooth beneath my feet, a stark contrast to the warmth that emanated from the heart of our home. The scent of lavender lingered in the air, a subtle reminder of the calming ritual she indulged in before surrendering to the night.

As I approached her door, adorned with the subtle but intricate carving of roses, I couldn't help but smile in anticipation. The muted glow from a bedside lamp spilled into the hallway, casting a soft halo around the frame. Pausing for a moment, I could hear the rhythmic cadence of her breathing, a gentle lullaby that resonated in the quiet stillness.

I tried the handle quietly, weary to wake her. The door wasn’t locked of course, It never was. And the light from the hallway gently peeks into her room, the warm light casting a glow over her form bundled in blankets.

I silently crossed the threshold, the subtle rustle of my movements barely stirring the air. The edge of the bed dipped ever so slightly as I eased myself beside her, wrapping my arm around her as if completing a missing chord in the melody of the night.