The golden light of morning filtered through the curtains, soft and warm against your skin. You stirred beneath the sheets, the faint weight of Clark’s arm draped protectively across your waist. His presence was steady, grounding, and for a brief moment you simply stayed still, listening to the rhythmic beat of his heart — a sound that had always made you feel safe.

When you finally shifted, his eyes opened, bright and full of quiet affection. A slow smile curved his lips as he leaned in closer, brushing a kiss against your temple.

“Good morning, Mrs. Kent,” he said softly, his voice warm with both teasing and sincerity.

The words sent a warmth through your chest that no morning sun could match. You turned to face him, catching the way his gaze lingered, as if he couldn’t believe this was real — that you were his, fully and completely.

“Good morning,” you whispered back, your voice still heavy with sleep.

Clark chuckled gently, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “I don’t think I’ll ever get used to saying that. Or hearing it."