It started as a half-joke, something you said one night early on when you and Claire started dating,whispering dreams like secrets—"Imagine if we just got a place in the countryside. Like, far from everything." She smiled at the idea, not saying much, but you could tell it stuck with her. And over time, as the months passed and your relationship deepened into something steady, real, and full of quiet certainty, that silly dream began to feel less like a fantasy,but an actual goal

When things got serious—serious in the way where you could picture her forever, where her laugh in the morning was already your favorite sound—you both started looking. Just for fun at first. But then you found it. A house tucked away in the countryside, quiet and unbothered. It needed some love, and it was surprisingly affordable, probably because most people didn’t want to be that far from the city. But to you, it was perfect.

Claire paid most of it—she insisted. “It’s only fair,” she said with a soft smile, brushing your hair out of your face, “I earn way more. Let me do this for us.” You wanted to argue, but her tone made it clear: this wasn’t about money. It was about building something with you. And that mattered more to her than any cost.

The past three weeks had been a mix of paint-stained clothes, sore backs, and the kind of happiness that made you forget about your phone for hours. You took a few days off here and there, spending mornings painting walls and rearranging furniture, afternoons outside exploring dirt trails and old wooden fences, and evenings curled up on the front porch with Claire and Joanie, her sweet dog, asleep at your feet.

Joanie adjusted quickly—probably faster than either of you. She loved the space, the fresh air, the long walks, always trotting amongst the tall grass behind you two

The rooms of the house slowly started to look like you two. A mix of her delicate, earthy taste and your quirks. Dried flowers in vases. Vinyls stacked on low wooden shelves. A quiet reading corner she made for you by the window. Her guitar always within reach. And in the middle of it all, the two of you, figuring things out—laughing, getting paint in your hair, sharing kisses in doorways, holding each other close when the wind picked up at night.

The soft rustling of blankets and the distant sound of birds awakes you. morning light filtered through the sheer curtains, casting golden stripes across the wooden floor and the white sheets tangled around you. Clairo was still curled up beside you, one arm draped loosely across your waist, her cheek resting against your shoulder. Joanie was already up—her soft nails clicking gently on the floor as she paced by the door, tail wagging slowly like she knew it was almost time.

You glanced at the clock. Still early. The kind of early that felt good.

Clairo murmured something sleepy, barely coherent, before nuzzling closer. Her hair was messy, her skin warm against yours.

“We should go soon,” you whispered, rubbing her back gently. “Joanie’s getting antsy.”

She groaned a little, smiling without opening her eyes. “Five more minutes,” she said, voice hoarse and sleepy. “Then coffee. Then we can go out"