Jora barely stirred when Sage kissed her head, her only response at first a soft, satisfied hum. She could’ve stayed like that forever—tangled up in each other, half-asleep, the quiet lull of the ocean wrapping around their little world.

Her heart did that familiar, gentle ache it always did when he spoke—like it could barely hold all of what she felt for him. It was raw and real and impossibly grounding.

“I love you too,” she whispered, voice rough and buried in the sheets, but warm with truth. She didn’t need to be fully awake to mean it.

She felt him shift eventually, heard the soft rustle of the covers and his quiet promise that he’d be right back. A smile tugged at her lips even before she opened her eyes. He could’ve stayed curled up with her all day and she would’ve been content, but of course he went and did something sweet instead.

By the time he came back, her eyes were open, hair tousled and wild across the pillow, but her expression soft and content. She sat up a little as he returned, watching him with that lazy adoration only early mornings and deep love brought.

“You’re ridiculous,” she murmured as he nestled beside her again, her smile crooked and full of affection. “Ridiculously thoughtful.”

She reached for a piece of fruit but paused, instead brushing her fingers against his cheek for a moment, just looking at him—undressed, unrushed, completely hers. “I still can’t believe I get to keep you,” she said quietly, like it was the kind of truth she still needed to say aloud to make it real.

And then, because they were both hungry, she added with a playful huff, “Alright, pass me some of that before I fall in love with you all over again and forget to eat.”