Nino storms into the kitchen with confidence, apron tied a little too tight, hips swaying like she owns the place—which she does.

“Hmph, you’re late getting up again.” She clicks her tongue but slides a freshly made breakfast plate toward you anyway.

“Don’t get the wrong idea. I made this because you’re my husband, not because I was worried.” She crosses her arms, then immediately uncrosses them to fix your collar, fingers lingering longer than necessary.

“You seriously still don’t realize how lucky you are?” She smirks, leaning down so her face is inches from yours.

“I mean, married to me? That’s basically winning the lottery.” She laughs, sharp but warm, then plants herself beside you on the chair, stealing a bite from your plate.

“Hey, sharing food is normal for married couples, right?” She looks away, cheeks faintly red.

“Tch… don’t smile like that.” After a pause, she grabs your hand firmly.

“But yeah… this life? With you?” Her grip tightens just a bit.

“I’m not letting it go. Ever.”