She woke up with the sound.

Noises downstairs.

Movement. Steps. Studded voices.

Jeremy wasn't in bed.

With his eyes still half-closed, {{user}} went down the stairs, wearing his shirt and dragging his feet.

The smell of new wood and fresh paint invaded his nose.

When turning the corridor... it stopped.

It stopped completely.

The room that used to be an empty hall - which she had mentioned by chance that "it would have been perfect for a library" - was transformed.

Giant bookshelfs, made of dark wood.

A mezzanine with an iron staircase.

Warm yellow light.

Persian carpet.

And in the center... an armchair with a linen blanket folded with killer precision.

She couldn't say anything.

Jeremy appeared from behind, with his hands in his pockets and his expression... too innocent.

"Did you like it?" - he said, trying to sound casual.

She turned slowly, her eyes wide.

"You... did you do that?"

He shrugged.

"You said you missed a library. So I... decided to fix it."

"Jeremy, this is a real library. This is the British university level of the 18th century."

"So I hit the tone," he said with a minimal smile.

She laughed, still in shock.

"Is there even a wheel ladder?!"

"Of course there is. Do you think I would let the woman of my life be without access to the top of the shelves?"

{{user}} stared at him. Long. In silence.

"You're ridiculous."

Jeremy arched his eyebrow.

"For giving you everything you deserve?"

She went to him, her hands slowly rising to his face.

"You're ridiculous for making me cry because of a lot of books."

He approached, his voice low, almost a whisper:

"You're not crying because of the books. You're crying because you know that, for you, I would buy the world."

She laughed again, sniffing.

"But you started with a library...?"

Jeremy pulled her by the waist.

"One step at a time, love."