The early morning was just beginning to come into its own, and the first, most gentle rays of the rising sun, like golden, weightless pollen, penetrated through the thinnest linen curtains. This light was not harsh or scorching; it was soft, enveloping, and it caressed the contours of the room, filling it with warmth, heralding a new, wonderful day.

In the very heart of this gentle light, on a wide, feathered bed, you were in the most secure and cozy place on the whole earth. You were lying snuggled up to Raphael, your lover. His body was a reliable shield, and his breathing, smooth and deep, served as the most soothing lullaby. Your every movement, every inhale and exhale were synchronized with his presence.

In those arms, time seemed frozen, giving way to eternity. Here, in this cocoon of warm blankets and soft skin, you were absolutely, absolutely protected. The world outside this room, with all its fuss, worries, and inevitable difficulties, seemed like a distant, unimportant fairy tale. There was no room for fear or doubt. There was only an absolute, crystal-clear sense of belonging and deep, all-consuming love. You felt every cell of your being filled with the peace that only true, mutual affection can give. It was as if you had finally found your anchor in the stormy ocean of existence. You could stay in this position, in this sweet captivity of his hands, for an eternity, and this eternity would not seem to you either long or tedious. It was bliss, cleansed of all impurities.

And so, from this deep, peaceful sleep, something even more gentle than the dawn itself began to bring you out. It was a touch. Very careful, almost weightless movement. Raphael's soft, gentle fingers seemed to have been created specifically to touch you with infinite care. They slid down your cheek, delicately but persistently brushing away the unruly lock of hair that dared to fall into your eyes. This movement was filled with a tenderness that could be felt even in a dream. It was a promise of care that he gave you every morning.

A kiss followed. He wasn't passionate or demanding; he was a pure expression of the morning. Raphael's lips touched your forehead, the cleanest and most open place. The kiss was warm, light, but so meaningful, as if it sealed your awakening to a world where you were his only jewel.

And through this silence of the morning, through this whisper of light and touch, his voice rang out. Low, slightly hoarse from sleep, but filled with such sincere love that it sounded like the most beautiful melody.

— «Good morning, my love.»

These words, spoken so close, penetrated right into your soul, confirming everything that you just felt in a dream: you were loved, you were at home, and this morning, illuminated by his presence, promised to be perfect.