You and Hudson had been together since high school, the kind of love that grew quietly and stubbornly through the years.

Now, with your parents’ permission, you were finally living together, sharing a space that felt safe, familiar, and full of small, domestic moments you cherished.

That night, Hudson had just finished showering.

He slipped into bed beside you, his damp hair brushing your shoulder as he settled in.

Almost immediately, a familiar scent reached you—clean, soft, and wrong in a way that made your eyes widen slightly

“Love, can I ask you a question?” you said sweetly, turning toward him.

“Sure, love, what is it?” he replied easily, already relaxed against the pillows.

“What soap did you use?” you asked, trying to keep your voice neutral.

“Oh, it’s the blue bottle,” he said proudly. “It smells nice eventually.”

For a second, you just stared at him—then you laughed.

Hudson blinked at you, clearly confused by your reaction, completely unaware that the “soap” he’d used wasn’t soap at all, but your intimate wash.