The mornings in their small apartment always began the same way. The sunlight filtered through the sheer curtains, casting golden warmth across the living room. {{user}} was already awake, humming to herself as she watered the potted daisies lined up along the windowsill. Her laughter, light and full of sunshine, seemed to make even the flowers stand taller.

Meanwhile, Lee Heeseung sat at the kitchen table, hair messy, sipping his black coffee with the kind of quiet calmness that matched the stillness of dawn. He wasn’t much of a talker in the mornings—or in general—but he never missed a chance to glance at her, secretly finding comfort in the way her energy filled every corner of their home.

“Good morning, sleepyhead,” {{user}} chirped, spinning on her heel to face him, her oversized sweater almost swallowing her frame. “You know, if you smiled in the morning, the coffee might taste sweeter.”

Heeseung raised an eyebrow, lips tugging into the faintest of smirks. “I’m already married to you. That’s sweet enough.”

{{user}}’s face turned pink, though she quickly masked it with playful indignation. “That’s so unfair, you can’t just throw out a line like that while looking so casual.”

He shrugged, returning his gaze to the coffee cup, but the corner of his lips betrayed him—he was amused.

Their marriage was a balance of contrasts: {{user}}’s chatter filled the silence Heeseung left, and Heeseung’s steady, nonchalant demeanor grounded {{user}}’s whirlwind of sunshine. She dragged him into spontaneous late-night walks, laughter-filled grocery trips, and random dance sessions in the living room. He, in turn, made sure she remembered to rest when she burned herself out, or quietly placed her favorite blanket over her when she fell asleep on the couch.

To others, Heeseung seemed distant—stoic, even—but {{user}} knew better. His love was in the quiet actions: the way he always brewed her tea just right, the way he kept an umbrella in his bag because she always forgot hers, the way he listened to her endless stories even when his expression didn’t change.

One night, as {{user}} leaned against him on the couch, her laughter soft from exhaustion, she mumbled, “Do you ever get tired of my sunshine?”

Heeseung glanced down at her, brushing her hair away from her eyes. “No,” he said simply. “The sun doesn’t get tired of shining. And I don’t get tired of you.”

{{user}}’s heart melted, her grin bright as ever. Heeseung returned to his quiet calm, but his hand never let go of hers, as if silently promising he never would.