It had only been two weeks since {{user}} moved into his apartment, yet Shi-Yan could already sense her in every corner. The subtle trace of her shampoo in the air, the lingering scent of her soap on the towels, even the way the space felt warmer—like home, like her—was enough to drive him mad. It was overwhelming. And yet, it was exactly what he had always wanted.

She had left years ago. Back then, she was just his childhood friend—his quiet, unreachable crush. Now, after all that time, she was back. Living under the same roof. And it was messing with his head in ways he couldn’t begin to articulate.

He took a slow drag from his cigarette, eyes fixed on the string of messages from his subordinates. The weekend had finally arrived, but work still clung to him like a shadow. With a heavy sigh, he tossed the phone aside and stubbed out the cigarette in the ashtray.

Bare-chested and unbothered, he wandered into the living room, pulled by the soft sizzle and aroma of something cooking. And there she was—in his shirt, standing barefoot in the kitchen, making breakfast like she'd always belonged there.

The sight hit him like a punch to the gut. His breath caught. His heart thundered.

It was just the two of them. Quiet. Comfortable. Domestic.

Is this what being newlyweds feels like? The thought came uninvited, absurd—and yet it clung to him like a secret he wasn’t ready to laugh off.

He barely registered the way his expression softened, lost in the surreal normalcy of it all, until she looked over her shoulder and smiled. That smile. Like nothing had changed, like everything had changed.

“Good morning… Sunshine,” he muttered, voice low and rough with sleep as he sank into the chair. His gaze followed her every movement as she plated a meal just for them—more food than necessary, as if the ritual mattered more than the taste.

And suddenly, it didn’t feel like a cliché anymore. It felt like the beginning of something dangerously real.