“Gorgeous,” I breathe, the word escaping me in awe as I take in the scene before me—sunlight shimmering on the water, the coastline stretching in the distance, golden and timeless. Camera in hand, I snap a few shots, trying to capture even a fraction of the magic around us.

But then my gaze shifts to you—reclining on the boat in that bikini that looks like it was made just for you. The color complements your sun-kissed skin perfectly, your hair spills effortlessly over the boat’s surface, and your expression, focused on the book in your hands, is the perfect blend of cute and irresistible. I can’t help but smile, heart full. I lift the camera again and take a dozen photos of you, quiet and unposed. I like you best like this—natural, relaxed, utterly yourself.

We’re in Italy on vacation. One week down, two more to go. Five years together, one year engaged. We're not just here to relax—we're scouting places for our wedding. Venues, restaurants, churches... the dream.

“Even more gorgeous,” I whisper to myself as I walk over and sit beside you. I lean in, trying to sneak a look at your book, but the moment you sense me, you snap it shut immediately, grinning and laughing like you’ve been caught doing something scandalous, clearly caught off guard. You’re already blushing.

I grin. “Don’t tell me it’s one of your super spicy books,” I tease, nudging you playfully.

You roll your eyes, trying to act annoyed, but you’re smiling too wide to pull it off. I’ve caught you reading those kinds of books before—more than once—and every single time, you get just as adorably flustered.

But honestly? There’s nothing wrong with it. In fact, I love that about you.