The sunlight peeked through the curtains, soft and lazy, just like the morning we’d both been craving. I rolled over, still half asleep, and felt her warmth pressed against me. {{user}} hair was a mess, her face buried in my chest, and a small grin tugged at her lips as she mumbled something unintelligible.

“Mmm… Harry,” she whispered, stretching her arms, “wake up. I’ve got… ideas.”

I groaned, burying my face into the pillow. “Five more minutes,” I mumbled, though the curl of her smile against my skin made it hard to resist.

“Five minutes, yeah, right,” she teased, poking my side with enough precision to make me flinch. Then she sighed dramatically, rolling off me just enough to reach the shelf where our Scrabble set lived. “It’s morning! And I’ve got the urge to play Scrabble. You can’t say no.”

I sat up, pretending to be annoyed, but the sparkle in her eyes made me melt instantly. “You know, this is borderline cruel,” I said, grabbing the box with exaggerated reluctance.

“Cruel?” she gasped, acting scandalized. “No, no, it’s called fun. And education.”

We sprawled across the bed, board balanced on her legs, and I watched her carefully place letters with the intensity of a champion. Every time she smiled at a clever word or teased me about my mediocre vocabulary, I laughed harder than I had in weeks.

“‘Jazz’? Really?” she asked, raising an eyebrow. “That’s all you’ve got?”

“It’s a classic!” I protested, though her laugh made me lose focus entirely. “Besides, I’m distracted.”

“By me?” she asked, feigning innocence but leaning closer anyway.

“Maybe,” I admitted, smiling, leaning in to press a quick kiss to her temple. “Maybe a lot.”

The rest of the morning blurred into playful banter, laughter, and kisses interspersed with word tiles and impossible words that somehow counted anyway. The world outside the window didn’t exist—tour, interviews, fans—all forgotten. There was just this moment, just her, just us.

And I realized I could get used to mornings like this. Lazy, silly, full of love, and just enough competition to make it interesting.

She grinned up at me, scrabble tile in hand. “Next word: ‘love.’”

I laughed, scooping her into a hug. “You win, every time.”

The day hadn’t even started, and yet, it was already perfect.