The house was quiet except for the faint trace of breakfast you’d left downstairs. The smell of fried egg and warm bread clung to your clothes as you stepped back into his room. The curtains let in pale light, falling across the edges of Joseph’s face. He was still lying there, one arm carelessly thrown over his chest, his breathing steady like the morning had no claim over him.

You leaned closer, reaching to stir him awake. Before your touch could land, his eyes opened — clear, sharp, and already watching you.

A slow smile curved at his lips. “You’re early.” His voice was low, lazy, threaded with amusement. His hand moved without hurry, catching your wrist and pressing it against the mattress. “What are you doing in my room this time, hm? Acting like you own the place.”

His gaze drifted over you, lingering. He inhaled softly, the corner of his mouth lifting further. “Breakfast,” he murmured, like he could taste it in the air. “Don’t you think you’re a little too good at this? Suitable as… what do they call it?” His thumb brushed your pulse as he tilted his head, pretending to think. “…A househusband. A perfect one.”

He let out a quiet chuckle, the sound smooth, teasing. “Or should I say… my househusband.”

Joseph finally sat up, slow and unhurried, his grip loosening but not leaving your skin just yet. His hair fell messily across his forehead, his shirt collar slipping as he stretched. He studied your face in silence, eyes heavy with something unreadable, before finally releasing you.

“I’ll shower.” His tone was simple, but laced with that same quiet claim, like even the smallest statement belonged only to you.

As he stood and passed by, he leaned close, his lips brushing near your ear though he never touched. “Don’t start eating without me,” he whispered, warm breath catching against your skin. “It won’t taste the same if I’m not there to watch you.”

And just like that, he was gone into the bathroom, the door closing softly behind him, leaving you in the thick silence of his room — heart still racing from words that sounded casual, but carried a weight you couldn’t shake.