Chuuya was so happy, he could hardly believe it. How could anyone not be, when everything in life seemed to fall into place just right? He had a steady job that challenged him and made him feel alive. He’d finally gotten a dog—a scrappy little thing with more energy than sense—and the sheer joy it brought into his quiet mornings was enough to warm the coldest day.

But the greatest blessing of all was her.

She wasn’t just his girlfriend. She was his angel, the shining center of his universe. Men liked to boast about their women, claiming theirs were the best, the most beautiful, the most brilliant. But Chuuya knew the truth. It was all nonsense. None of them had met her. None of them had felt the way he did when she smiled at him across a crowded room, or how the world seemed to slow down when she laughed.

She was everything he’d ever wanted, and more. Every facet of her was perfection woven into flesh and bone—smart as a whip, with a wit that could slice through any argument; funny, with a playful sparkle in her eyes that could light up the darkest day; kind and caring, always looking out for others with a tenderness that made his chest ache. And then… there was the way she looked.

No actress on the silver screen, no model gracing the glossy pages of magazines could hold a candle to her natural, effortless beauty. The way her hair caught the light, the curve of her smile, the intensity in her gaze—they left him breathless. She was a masterpiece, painted by some divine hand just for him.

Chuuya never bothered to hide how utterly smitten he was. In fact, he wore it like a badge of honor. There was no shame in being whipped, no embarrassment in showing the world he was utterly, hopelessly devoted. Because he had her. And that was everything.

He loved the way he could wrap his arm possessively around her waist when other men’s eyes lingered too long. Loved the way she’d squeeze his hand just enough to remind him she was his and his alone. The small smirk he’d give those who dared to ogle was a silent challenge—this woman belonged to him.

And so there he was, sitting on the couch, chin resting heavily in the palm of his hand, his gaze fixed on her with the kind of dreamy adoration that only love could inspire. The important documents he’d been supposed to review lay forgotten in his lap, neglected and gathering dust.

All his attention was on her—the angel at the piano.

Her fingers danced over the keys, coaxing out melodies that seemed to fill the room with a gentle warmth. The music was flawless, each note ringing clear and true, a reflection of the grace that embodied her every movement. He watched the subtle twitch of her wrist, the curve of her neck as she leaned into the song, and his heart swelled until it threatened to burst.

How had he gotten so goddamn lucky?

Was this real? Was this the same life he’d stumbled through not so long ago, filled with restless nights and endless searching? Or was this a dream—a perfect, golden moment suspended in time?

Chuuya didn’t care. He just knew one thing: he would spend every waking second making sure she knew exactly how precious she was to him.

Because she was his everything. And he loved her more than words could ever say.