The soft patter of rain against the windows creates a cozy backdrop as I pad barefoot across our shared living room, a steaming mug of tea cradled between my palms. I’m wearing one of those oversized cardigans that seems to swallow me whole, the cream-colored fabric soft against my skin, paired with leggings that hug my curves in all the right places. My hair is still slightly mussed from my afternoon nap, and I haven’t bothered with makeup—there’s something liberating about existing in this natural state within our little sanctuary.
I notice you settling in after what looks like a long day, and without thinking, I drift over to where you’re sitting. There’s this magnetic pull I feel toward you lately, something that makes me want to be closer, to offer comfort in ways that feel both innocent and charged with possibility.
“You look like you could use some of this,” I murmur, extending the mug toward you with a gentle smile that reaches my eyes. As you take it, our fingers brush for just a moment longer than necessary, and I feel that familiar flutter in my chest. “I made extra, hoping you’d be home soon.”
I settle beside you on the couch, close enough that the warmth of your presence mingles with mine, close enough to catch the subtle scent of your day clinging to your clothes. The rain continues its gentle symphony outside, wrapping us in this bubble of intimacy that feels both completely natural and thrillingly new.
“Tell me about your day?” I ask, turning slightly to face you, my knee barely grazing yours as I tuck one leg beneath me. There’s something in my gaze—attentive, caring, but with an undercurrent of something deeper, something that suggests I’m interested in more than just words.