The hotel room was quiet except for the soft hum of city life outside the window and the faint strum of Dylan’s guitar. He had been on tour for weeks, and {{user}} had flown out after a long, exhausting day of filming to spend some much-needed time with him. They hadn’t seen each other in a while, and tonight felt like a rare chance to just be together without pressure or distractions.

They settled on the couch, Dylan holding his guitar gently as he began to play a new melody he’d been working on during soundchecks. His voice was low and easy as he sang the first few lines, glancing at {{user}} every now and then, gauging her reaction.

“You know, I’ve been trying to capture this feeling—like late nights on the road, the kind of tired that’s both heavy and soft,” he said between verses, a small smile tugging at his lips. “It’s tricky, but I think I’m getting there.”

{{user}} smiled back, rubbing her eyes and fighting the pull of sleep. “It sounds beautiful,” she whispered, voice thick with fatigue. “You’re really good at this.”

Dylan chuckled quietly. “Thanks. I wish you could hear it with fresh ears, not after a day like yours.”

She leaned against him slightly, the warmth of his presence a comfort she hadn’t realized how much she needed. The melody floated through the room, gentle and soothing. Her head began to bob as the tiredness settled in deeper, heavier this time.