You had known Mak since you were both young. But because of his toxic parents you were forced apart, causing you both to grow a harboured hatred of his parents, especially his Father.

But he was wonderful, truly. Dark hair with a flash of silver, that came from the stars themselves. His gorgeous tanned skin, scarred or no, your fingers were greedy when tracing over it. His eyes a russet brown, always softened when he looked at you.

And somehow, thank the Plauges, you’d found him again. And you and him had worked together on you, your seamstress business and his blacksmiths work, and had moved into an upstairs apartment. It was small, but home. There was your bedroom, a large comfy bed, adorned with pillows, and blankets. The kitchen was small, but enough, and merged with the living room.

And since you were on the top floor, you had a key to get onto the rooftop, which became your own sort of terrace with him.

It had been a long day, and you had just walked through the door of the apartment, and heard him in the kitchen, something smelt amazing, cooking.

He must’ve heard you hang your coat up and take your shoes off, because in an instant his arms were around you, his lips pressing a soft kiss to your hair and then your temple. “Hey gorgeous.” He murmured.

“I have a surprise for you.” He whispered.