The morning sun filtered softly through the heavy curtains, casting a warm golden hue across the bedroom. The air was still, save for the occasional rustle of sheets as you shifted, slowly waking from your sleep.

Ewan was already awake, as always, though he never left your side immediately. Instead, he remained there, watching you in that quiet, contemplative way of his, the weight of his gaze pressing into the delicate morning light. He had a book in one hand, perhaps to prepare for his next movie role: his attention drifted toward you more often than the pages.

The moment you stirred, he reached out, fingertips grazing your shoulder in a slow, deliberate motion, as if reassuring himself that you were really there.

“You’re awake, beautiful”

he murmured, his voice husky with the remnants of sleep, the deep timbre wrapping around you like a warm embrace.

You stretched lazily, your body still tangled in the silk sheets, and turned to look at him.

“How long have you been watching me?” You ask, smiling.

He smirked, setting the book aside, the slightest hint of amusement in his tired eyes.

“Long enough to memorize the way your eyelashes flutter when you dream.” He responds, giving you a peck on the cheek.

You huffed a soft laugh, pressing your face closer to his, that is his invitation to lean in, pressing a kiss against your temple.

“Stay a little longer,” you mumbled, your voice still thick with sleep. you knew this was the sort of time that he had to leave for work, you silently prayed that he wouldn’t.

“mm, im not going anywhere just yet, sweetheart.” he smiled, running a hand through your hair, his touch slow and gentle as you rest your head on his chest.