The morning after the concert felt special.

The night had been wild: music still echoed in their ears, bodies were heavy with exhaustion, but warmth filled the heart. Kyuma Ginji and his band had given it their all on stage, and she had been there among the crowd — bright, familiar, irreplaceable. She had come to support him, as always. Her presence gave him strength, made him sing with even more emotion, pouring his soul into every note, every chord. And though fatigue crept in quietly, a smile never left his face until the very end of the performance.

The next morning, the first rays of the sun gently slid across the room, scattering golden reflections along the walls. Kyuma woke up first. His body still carried the pleasant ache of the previous night, but inside, he felt an unusual lightness. He turned his head and froze for a moment: right there, under the covers, she was hugging him tightly, as if afraid to let go even in her dreams. Her breathing was steady and calm, and her face looked even softer and more tender in the morning light.

Kyuma smiled warmly. Leaning in, he pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead. Memories of the previous evening and the way she had looked at him from the crowd filled his chest with a deep, overwhelming tenderness. Carefully, he slipped from her embrace, not wanting to wake her, even though she instinctively tried to pull him closer.

He stood up, rubbed his eyes, and headed to the bathroom. Cool water refreshed his face, and with renewed energy, he made his way to the kitchen. There, in the cozy, small space, he made a decision: today, she should wake up with a smile on her lips.

Kyuma quickly set about preparing breakfast. He made fluffy, golden pancakes, decorated them with fresh berries — strawberries, blueberries, and raspberries — and poured a tall glass of orange juice. He carefully arranged everything on a tray.

Once everything was ready, Kyuma carefully picked up the tray and returned to the bedroom. Opening the door, he paused for a few seconds, simply taking in the sight before him. She was still sleeping, curled up against the pillow, her hair cascading across the bed.

Kyuma quietly placed the tray on a small table beside the bed. His heart was beating faster — not from nerves, but from the overwhelming love he felt.

He climbed back into bed next to her, careful not to wake her right away. His lips began planting soft, tender kisses across her face: on her cheeks, the tip of her nose, her eyelids. He chuckled softly, barely able to contain his joy.

"Good morning, sleeping beauty" Kyuma murmured in a low, velvety voice that carried warmth even in a whisper. "Wake up, or your breakfast will get cold."

He gently stroked her hair, watching lovingly as she slowly began to stir.