The morning crept in like a whispered secret. When I opened my eyes, the world offered me its most breathtaking view—not the golden sunlight, not the skies beyond the window, but her. She lay curled against my chest, her breath soft and steady, wrapped in the safety of my arms like she belonged there… like she always had. A slow, contented smile tugged at my lips. I leaned down and kissed her forehead—just a whisper of a touch. The golden sunlight filtered through the sheer curtains, cascading over her face, painting her in soft gold. She looked ethereal like something not meant for this world. That glow… it could kill me and I'd go willingly. Her eyes fluttered beneath her lashes, still dreaming, still somewhere between reality and fantasy. I raised my hand, shielding her delicate face from the light. The moment I did, her brows relaxed, lips parted in comfort.
God, I can stay like that forever—watching her and protecting her.
Loving her in silence.
And then… she opened her eyes.
Sleepy. Soft. Dangerous. Beautiful. Our eyes met, and a slow, sleepy smile curved her lips. She looked up at my hand, still holding back the sunlight, and then reached up and kissed it gently. Her voice was soft, touched with concern. "How long have you been holding your hand like that? Your arm must be hurting."
I smiled, brushing a stray strand of hair away from her face, and tucking it behind her ear.
"Doing anything for you… is not a burden. It's an honor. A privilege. One I would die for."
She placed her palm on my cheek, cradling me with a tenderness that made the earth fall quiet. "Do you love me that much?" she whispered.
I paused, tracing her jaw with my fingertips.
"No," I said with a teasing smirk.
She blinked, sitting up abruptly, eyes wide. "What?"
I sat up slowly and took both of her hands in mine. Then I looked straight into her soul and said—
"Love is too small word for what I feel. I don't believe in love… I believe in obsession. And I'm completely, hopelessly obsessed with you."
A gasp escaped her lips as she threw herself into my arms, wrapping around me so tightly I could feel her heartbeat racing against my chest. I think she could feel mine, too—loud, strong, devoted.
We stayed like that for a few moments, wrapped up in warmth and truth. And then I whispered, "Alright, I should go for my run."
She looked up at me, mischief flickering in her eyes. "I want to come with you." I raised an eyebrow.
"You'll get exhausted, princess. You should rest. I'll be back soon", I said.
But then—like a storm dressed in silk—she climbed onto my lap, looped her arms around my neck, and gave me that look. The one that always destroys every ounce of logic I own.
"No," she said, pouting adorably. "I'm coming with you."
That pout. That face. Her secret weapon. And every single time… I fall. Hard.
I let out a deep laugh, wrapping my arms around her tightly.
"Alright, alright, Miss Stubborn. Let's go."
Then I lifted her gently into my arms again, her soft laughter curling into my neck like music. I carried her off the bed and lowered her carefully onto the floor, slipping her tiny feet into her slippers., brushing my fingers over her ankle.
"Okay," I whispered, brushing a kiss onto her forehead. "Get ready. We'll go together."
And just like that, the morning didn't feel ordinary anymore.
It felt like ours.
We both got ready and stepped into the early morning light, side by side. The sky painted in soft strokes of lavender and gold. She was already glowing brighter than the morning light itself. Her steps synced mine—soft, rhythmic, perfect. Her silky hair danced behind her, cascading down like a river in motion. And her smile, More radiant than the sun, more dangerous than any weapon I'd ever held. Tiny beads of sweat traced the curve of her collarbone, glittering like dew on a lotus petal, refusing to fall—almost as if even gravity didn't want to disturb her beauty.
We turned into the park, the hush of trees surrounding us like we'd slipped into a different world. I reached for the pull-up bar, grabbing it with practiced ease, my body rising and falling with rhythm. I felt her eyes on me—intense, unblinking, curious. She came closer, pressing her delicate fingers to my biceps. I said teasing her, "Can you do that too?"
Her lips curled in mock offense. "Are you underestimating me, Mr. Muscles?"
She moved to the front and tried jumping to catch the bar—twice. But her fingertips barely brushed it. She looked back at me, slightly breathless but still defiant. I chuckled and stepped behind her, my hands gently circling her waist. Without a word, I lifted her, her body light and soft against mine. She hung there, swinging slightly, looking down at me with those blue fire-lit eyes. Her little hands were between mine now, both of us gripping the bar.
"Okay, show me what you've got," I whispered against her ear. She smirked—and then, with a little swing, wrapped her legs around my waist.
"See?" she said breathlessly, lifting herself with me. "I'm doing it… and doing it better than you."
God. I laughed—deep and unguarded. These small, beautiful moments were what made me want time to stop.
When we finished, we wandered hand in hand through the street, the world slowly waking around us. And then, suddenly, she tugged at the sleeve of my track jacket like a child. I followed her gaze—an old ice cream parlor across the road.
"You want one?" I asked. She nodded, lips puckered into the cutest expression that could end wars. I cupped her face, squeezed her cheek gently, and said, "Well then, your wish, my command, ma'am."
We ordered. Two cones. But of course, before I could take my first bite, she leaned in and stole a taste of mine—her lips brushing the side of my cone like a little thief. She laughed, feigning innocence while devouring hers like nothing happened. I stepped closer, voice low and playful. "You've tasted mine… now I want a taste of yours."
She giggled and ran off like a storm wrapped in sunlight. I chased after her. Fast, focused, and determined. I caught her wrist, spun her into my arms—and in one swift, teasing move, I leaned in and tasted the ice cream right from her lips.
Her eyes widened. Her breath caught. And I whispered close to her mouth— "Definitely sweeter. I think I just found my new favorite flavor."
She smacked my chest playfully, laughing, trying to hide the blush blooming across her cheeks. Her laughter melted into mine as we walked along the quiet streets, the city slowly coming alive around us. Pigeons fluttered around, pecking at crumbs. Schoolchildren passed us with sleepy eyes and bright backpacks. The world looked so… normal.
As we strolled hand in hand through the quiet street, wrapped in the comfort of the cozy morning, a sudden sharp sound of crying broke the soft rhythm of the world around us.
"Vincenzo…" Eva's voice turned gentle, concerned. Her brows furrowed as she pointed. "That little girl… she's crying so loudly."
I followed her gaze. A tiny girl, no more than five, sat curled under the tree—her small shoulders trembling, her cheeks flushed from crying. "Let's see what happened," she said softly. I nodded. We approached, and Eva crouched beside the girl. Her voice, soft as silk, melted into the child's panic. "Hey, baby… who are you? Why are you crying? Where's your mama, sweetheart?"
But the girl didn't answer. She just cried louder, overwhelmed. Without a second thought, Eva scooped her into her arms, holding her close. She wiped the tears from the little girl's face, brushing the hair away from her forehead.
"Shh… it's okay. But if you keep crying like this, how will we be able to help you, hmm?" she whispered. The little girl hiccupped through her sobs and finally spoke, her voice breaking, "I got separated from my mom… I saw a red balloon… I let go of her hand… now I can't find her…"
Eva embraced her tightly, cradling her as if she were her own. "Don't worry, sweetheart. Your mommy must be nearby. We'll find her, I promise."
We walked along the street, stopping passersby, and scanning every face with growing urgency. Eva kept the little girl in her arms the whole time, her soft humming wrapping around them like a blanket of calm. Then, like a scene from a movie, a woman came running down the street, tears in her eyes. The moment she saw us, she cried out, "My daughter!"
The child leaped from Eva's arms into her mother's embrace. They clung to each other, tears streaming freely, the weight of separation melting in the warmth of their awaited reunion. After a few moments, the woman turned to us, breathless. "Thank you… thank you so much. I was shopping and… I lost her… thank you for taking care of my daughter."
Eva shook her head gently. "It's alright… we're just glad she's safe." Then she bent down, meeting the girl at eye level. She smiled warmly, handed her a chocolate, and hugged her. "Promise me one thing, baby," Eva whispered to her. "Never let go of your mommy's hand again. Okay?" The little girl nodded and waved goodbye. With that, mother and daughter disappeared into the crowd.
We resumed our walk, but Eva had fallen quiet. Her fingers played absently with mine. I glanced at her, her eyes a little misty, her thoughts somewhere far away.
"What is it, Eva?" I asked gently. She let out a slow breath. "Nothing… just thinking about that little girl. She was so cute." I smiled. "Yeah. She was." Then, turning to her, I added with a chuckle, "You know… I've always wanted a daughter." She looked at me, surprised, then laughed. "Really? Do you even know what it means to be a girl-dad? You'd have to braid her hair, pick out cute dresses, play tea party, and those girly board games…" I stepped closer, wrapping my arm around her waist. "And I'll do all of it. Happily and become the best dad ever. Hair clips, glitter, fairy wings—bring it on." She giggled, shaking her head. "If I ever have a daughter… I'll make her just like me. No princess tiaras—she'll wear combat boots under her school uniform and break the kid's arms who dares bully her." I laughed out loud, pulling her closer. "Oh, I have no doubt. If she's your daughter, she'll be a walking hurricane for sure."
We kept walking, the sunlight warm against our skin, hearts full and light.
We finally reached home, the comfort of familiar walls wrapping around us like a warm embrace. I walked into the room, changed quickly, grabbed my coat, and ran a my fingers through my hair in front of the mirror. Her reflection appeared behind mine, glowing softly like a dream I never wanted to wake up from. She was leaning against the doorway, arms crossed, smile gentle—eyes holding something deeper… something unspoken. I walked toward her, slowly, and gently cupped her face in my hands. "I'll be back soon," I whispered. She smiled, lips curving sweetly, seductively. Her fingers brushed across my jawline, slow and possessive, like she didn't want to let go.
"Don't make me wait too long," she said softly. She stood at the doorstep, barefoot on the cool tiles, waving at me with that soft smile… And yet… something gnawed at my chest. A strange feeling curled inside me—a pressure behind my ribs like I was forgetting something… or walking away from something I shouldn't. I didn't say anything—I couldn't. Instead, I turned away, taking one last glance over my shoulder. She was still there, standing in the doorway like a memory I was already afraid to lose. As I walked away, her scent lingered on my clothes… her laughter echoed faintly in my mind… and at that moment, I realized:
I was already missing her.
And deep down in my gut, I knew— Something was coming.