Chapter 19

Faye

The soft morning glow filtered through the curtains, painting gentle lines across the room as I slowly opened my eyes. Warmth radiated beside me, and a smile crept onto my lips as I listened to the steady, familiar rhythm of her breathing.

Yoko.

My heart swelled as I gazed at her, peacefully nestled in my arms, her hand resting lightly on my waist. Her dark hair spilled beautifully across the pillow, framing her delicate features. I couldn't help but study her, memorising the serene rise and fall of her chest, the softness of her expression.

Careful not to disturb her, my fingers moved instinctively to trace the bridge of her nose, then down to the gentle curve of her lips. She stirred slightly at the touch, her brows knitting together in a fleeting furrow that made me smile. Amused, I chuckled softly, the sound barely audible in the quiet room.

Reluctantly, I slipped from her embrace, gently lifting her hand from my waist. I reached for the oversized white shirt hanging in my closet, slipping it on before heading to the bathroom.

Just before closing the door, I glanced back. She was still curled up in the blankets, so peaceful it made my heart ache in the best possible way.

Downstairs, the morning began to unfold with quiet purpose. I rolled up my sleeves and started preparing breakfast. The aroma of freshly brewed coffee filled the kitchen, and I instinctively reached for Yoko's mug. Then, I paused, a small smile tugging at my lips. She preferred her coffee freshly poured, piping hot.

I'd wait for her to wake.

The clinking of utensils and the soft sizzle of scrambled eggs in the pan filled the space as I worked. The toaster popped up two slices of sourdough, and soon the fragrance of crisp bacon and roasted cherry tomatoes joined the symphony of scents.

Just as I reached to plate the eggs, a warm pair of arms slid around my waist, making me jump slightly. But the moment I felt the softness of her smaller frame through the thin fabric of my shirt, I relaxed completely.

Yoko's cheek pressed against my back, warm and reassuring. Her embrace was unhurried, and her presence alone filled the room with a quiet, intimate energy.

"You startled me," I said softly, my voice laced with affection, though I made no move to pull away.

"Good morning," she murmured, her words muffled against my back.

I smiled to myself, leaning slightly into her touch, feeling an overwhelming sense of gratitude for this simple, perfect moment with her.

"Good morning," I said with a smile, my attention still on the eggs as I carefully plated them alongside the toast, crispy bacon, and roasted cherry tomatoes.

Her voice, soft and husky with sleep, reached my ears as her warmth shifted from my back. She peeked out from beside me, her curious expression making my smile widen. "What's for breakfast?"

"Just something simple—toast, eggs, and bacon," I replied, my tone light as I reached for the coffee pot. Pouring the freshly brewed coffee into her favourite mug, I turned to face her and extended it toward her. "Here, hot and fresh, just how you like it."

"Thank you," she said, taking the mug with both hands, her touch so natural it made my heart swell. She brought it to her lips, taking a few tentative sips. Her eyes lit up instantly, the twinkle of delight unmistakable. "This is so good—God, you've outdone yourself."

I chuckled softly, watching the corners of her lips curl upward in satisfaction. "Well, I'm no coffee connoisseur like you, but I think I picked decent beans this time."

Her laugh was small but warm, filling the space between us with an easy intimacy. "You definitely did," she said, her voice light with affection.

"Come on," I said, motioning toward the table, "Breakfast is ready. Let's eat together."

We carried our plates to the table, the scent of our meal filling the air. Setting the food before us, we settled into a companionable silence, the soft hum of the outside world a comforting backdrop.

The moment felt timeless—just us, sharing the quiet peace of the morning. As we ate, my gaze occasionally drifted to her, and each time, I couldn't help but feel grateful for the simple, profound happiness she brought into my life.

"Oh, are you planning to go to the school carnival this week?" she asked curiously, taking a bite of the sourdough toast.

I paused, thinking back to the murmurs in the staffroom. I hadn't paid much attention. "Is it compulsory?"

She shook her head, her expression casual. "Not really. It's just something our school does three times a year. The theme changes every time."

"Huh," I said, nodding slowly. "Is it open to the public?"

"I think so, yeah." Her attention shifted to the bacon on her plate, its golden edges crisp and tempting.

I smiled slightly, a name popping into my mind. "Maybe I'll check it out with Engfa. She's obsessed with things like themed festivals."

Her eyes lit up at my response, a flicker of excitement crossing her face. "Are you going to dress up?"

I chuckled, shaking my head. "No way. Definitely not."

Her mouth twitched, mumbling something under her breath as if in playful disapproval. The sight of it made me laugh softly.

"Are you dressing up?" I asked, setting my utensils down after finishing the last bite of my food. I reached for my coffee, letting its warmth spread through my hands.

She finished her bacon, placing her utensils neatly on her plate before looking at me with a grin. "Yup! Ink, Marissa, and I are planning to sort out costumes tomorrow after school."

"I'm sure you'll all look amazing," I said, smiling warmly at her. She seemed genuinely excited, her energy contagious.

She nodded enthusiastically, her eyes sparkling. "Yeah, and this year... maybe we can sneak away for a bit to enjoy it together." Her voice softened, the dreamy look on her face making my chest feel lighter.

I winked at her, playing along. "Hopefully."

We lingered at the table a while longer, chatting about the week ahead. The conversation was easy, filled with little laughs and the kind of comfort that only comes from being with someone who feels like home.

She mentioned her dad would be back next week for a few days, which might mean less time together. It didn't bother me at all—I knew how much she cherished and prioritised time with him.

After we washed and set aside the dishes, we found ourselves curled up comfortably on the sofa.

"Shall we watch something?" I asked, reaching for the remote. I flipped through the channels, looking for a good series to share.

Her eyes lit up the moment I clicked on Disney+. "Oh, yes! Let's watch The Judge from Hell! I've seen a few episodes already, and I'm hooked."

"Really? Alright, but you'll have to catch me up—I'm starting from scratch." I smiled, navigating to the first episode. The room filled with the soft hum of the TV as the opening scene began.

A few episodes in, we were both completely engrossed. The unexpected plot twists had me at the edge of my seat, each cliffhanger leaving us wanting more.

Every now and then, I caught myself sneaking glances at Yoko, studying the way her features softened and tensed with the story. Her expressions were captivating—more so than I wanted to admit. A gentle buzz of electricity hummed through me as my heart swelled at the sight of her.

"You're missing the show," she said, her eyes still glued to the screen. Yet the faint pink rising to her cheeks betrayed her awareness of my gaze.

"Oh... right." I quickly refocused, shifting slightly as if to ground myself, though my thoughts still lingered on her.

Moments later, she shifted closer, her small frame leaning against me as her head rested lightly on my shoulder. The warmth of her presence stirred something deep within me. Without thinking, I pressed a soft kiss to the top of her head. It felt natural, soothing, and undeniably right.

The morning slipped by in blissful simplicity. We stayed nestled together, enjoying the show and each other's company, wrapped in an unspoken contentment.

By noon, it was time to drop her off at her house before I headed out for my usual grocery run.

The rest of my Sunday unfolded peacefully. I spent the afternoon grading assignments and preparing lessons for the week ahead. Later that night, I climbed into bed, savouring the quiet as I picked up my Kindle and settled into The Road to Memphis by Mildred D. Taylor.

It was the perfect end to a day filled with tenderness and a love that needed no words.