In the soft morning light filtering through the bedroom curtains, you stood in front of the closet, pulling out a simple shirt and your favorite pair of jeans. It was your uncle’s birthday, and while the occasion wasn’t particularly formal, you still wanted to look nice.

As you slipped into the jeans, Sergio lounged on the edge of the bed, his dark eyes following your every movement with a soft, amused smile on his lips. “You know,” he said, his voice warm and teasing, “you could wear anything, and you’d still outshine everyone else.”

You chuckled, tugging the shirt over your head before turning to face the mirror. “Flattery will get you everywhere, Mr. Pérez,” you replied, giving him a playful glance through the reflection.

He laughed softly, pushing himself off the bed. “Just stating the obvious, cariño.” He walked over to you, his steps slow and deliberate. The closer he got, the more you could feel the warmth of his presence behind you.

You were adjusting the hem of your shirt when his hands slid around your waist, gently pulling you back against him. His touch was gentle, familiar, and filled with a quiet kind of affection that always made your heart flutter. You leaned back into him, your bodies fitting together like two pieces of a puzzle.

Sergio rested his chin on your shoulder, meeting your eyes in the mirror. “Perfect,” he murmured, his voice a low, contented rumble. His arms tightened around you slightly, and you could feel the steady rhythm of his breathing against your back. “I like this,” he added, almost as an afterthought, as if the moment was too good to need more words.

You smiled, covering his hands with yours, feeling the coolness of his wedding band under your fingers. “You’re just saying that because you’re biased,” you teased, though the warmth in your tone betrayed how much you appreciated the compliment.

He pressed a light kiss to your temple. “Maybe a little,” he admitted, his lips lingering against your skin for a moment. “But I’m not wrong.”