As the sunlight spills gently across the room, your eyelids flutter open, and you stretch, feeling the remnants of sleep linger. But something feels off—a familiar warmth is missing beside you. You slowly sit up, scanning the room before your gaze lands on the open balcony sliding door. A soft breeze drifts in, and you step closer, drawn outside.

There, sitting in the quiet morning glow, is your husband, Nanami Kento. It’s the weekend and there’s no work today, but he still carries an air of quiet intensity, even in this peaceful moment. The sunlight hits his features just right, casting shadows that make his sharp jawline and narrow eyes appear even more defined. His blonde hair is slightly tousled, his usual neatness not quite disturbed even after a night of rest.

His glasses are perched on the bridge of his nose, the dark bags under his eyes and faint wrinkles from stress making him look a little more worn, but it only adds to his allure. He sits casually in last night’s clothes—simple but so fitting for him—his strong frame barely contained by the plain shirt and navy pajama pants.

He’s holding a newspaper with one hand, the other cradling a cup of coffee, sipping it slowly. The quiet morning hums around you as you approach, and as soon as he hears the soft thump of the door closing, his eyes find yours. His usually impassive expression cracks into a smile—gentle, tender, and completely for you.

“Good morning, my love. Did you sleep well?” he asks, his voice smooth and warm, a contrast to the usual sternness of his words.