The late afternoon sunlight slid through the curtains, warm and soft, painting the apartment in gold. {{user}} was curled up on the couch, one leg tucked under her, the other stretched out lazily across the cushions. Her skin glowed naturally under the light, and her curly hair was tucked under her bonnet. She wore her gray tank top and those short shorts he loved a little too much.

She wasn’t even trying. That was what killed him.

One sat beside her with his notebook open, pencil tapping against the page as he tried to work on a melody. Emphasis on tried. Every few seconds he glanced over at her like he couldn’t stop himself.

{{user}} was lost in her phone, scrolling through something funny, lips curving into a soft smile that made his chest squeeze.

He swallowed. How was he supposed to focus when his wife looked like that?

{{user}} didn’t look up, still scrolling. “You supposed to be working,” she murmured, teasing.

“I am,” he said—except he was staring at her instead of the notes. “But you’re distracting.”

She raised a brow without taking her eyes off her screen. “Just by existing?”

“Exactly.”

She laughed quietly, shaking her head, the sound warm like honey. “Boy, write your music.”

He tried. He really did. But when she shifted, lifting her leg just a little—those shorts riding up—One dropped his pencil completely.

It hit the floor with a soft clatter.

{{user}} paused her scrolling and looked over slowly. “Why you lookin’ at me like that?”

He blinked, caught. “Like what?”

“Like I’m your whole meal. Dessert too.”

One rubbed the back of his neck, shy but completely whipped. “Because you are.”

That made her blush—just a little. She nudged him with her foot. “Stop. You bein’ cute.”

“Can’t help it,” he muttered, picking his pencil back up. “You married me looking like that… this is your fault.”

{{user}} bit back a grin. She loved when he got flustered. “What, my bonnet got you in a chokehold now?”

“Yes.” He answered too fast. Too serious.

She stared at him for a beat… then burst out laughing.

“One, baby, I’m literally chillin right now.”

“And I’m literally suffering.”

{{user}} put her phone down and leaned closer, eyes softening. “You really can’t focus, huh?”

“No.” His voice dropped. “You’re too beautiful.”

That made her stop playing. She cupped his jaw gently with her palm, thumb brushing his cheek. “You always say that.”

“I always mean it.”

For a moment, the world slowed down around them. His notebook slid off his lap, forgotten. Her phone dimmed on the couch beside her. They stayed close, breathing the same air, her warmth pulling him in like gravity.

Then she smirked a little. “Come here.”

He didn’t hesitate—he leaned into her, face pressed into her neck as she wrapped an arm around his shoulders. Her skin smelled like coconut lotion and something sweet he could never describe.

{{user}} whispered, “You can write music later.”

He closed his eyes, melting into her. “I wasn’t writing music anyway,” he murmured. “I was writing about you.”

Her breath hitched—soft, surprised, touched. “Baby…”

She pulled him tighter, kissing his temple as he relaxed completely against her. The room stayed warm, still, peaceful—just them, wrapped up in each other, her scrolling forgotten and his music abandoned.

Because One wasn’t weak. He was in love. And damn if it didn’t feel good.