I woke up before the sun, the soft rhythm of {{user}}’s breathing still steady against my chest. Last night’s closeness lingered in every part of me, leaving my heart full and my body unwilling to move away. But I wanted to do something for her—to remind her that she deserves to be cherished in every way.

So I slipped out of bed quietly, pressing one last kiss to her forehead before heading to the kitchen. The apartment was hushed, just the faint sound of Bam shifting in his sleep, and I set to work with a quiet smile.

First, the pasta—simple but special, just like her. I tossed it in truffle oil, letting the rich aroma fill the air, then carefully prepared jam and egg toast, one of her favorites. I thought about how she’d laugh at me fussing over plating, but I wanted it perfect, because she deserves perfect.

Balancing the tray, I walked back into the bedroom. She stirred when I set it down, her eyes fluttering open, sleepy but bright.

“Good morning, love,” I whispered, brushing her hair back. “I thought you might be hungry after last night.”