Nayla woke up to the scent of something warm and toasty.
For a moment, her brain fumbled in the space between sleep and wakefulness. Her eyes blinked open slowly, adjusting to the soft morning light seeping through the sheer curtains.
Her apartment was quiet—but not empty.
And then it clicked.
Raka had stayed the night.
She sat up, brushing her hair back, the oversized hoodie slipping from one shoulder. The living room was just visible from the bedroom doorway, and she could hear faint clinking. A drawer opening. The telltale sound of someone trying to figure out how her kitchen worked without waking her up.
She got up, tiptoeing into the small living space, only to pause when she saw him.
There he was, barefoot, messy-haired, standing in front of her stove in her gray hoodie, using a fork to flip something in a pan. Toast, she realized. And eggs. He had somehow found her butter and was humming off-key to a song playing from his phone.
Raka turned around and grinned mid-toast-flip. "Good morning."
"You're cooking," she said, voice raspy with sleep.
"I'm trying," he replied, then added, "Your spatula is tiny. It's like cooking with a toy."
She chuckled, crossing her arms. "You didn't have to do that."
"I wanted to. Felt weird just sitting around while you slept like a baby."
Nayla stepped closer, peeking into the pan. "You're doing okay, surprisingly."
"I watched a lot of Gordon Ramsay shorts last night before bed."
She rolled her eyes but smiled.
He looked at her then, really looked. "You okay?"
She nodded slowly. "Yeah. Just… not used to mornings that start with someone else here."
He softened. "Too much?"
"No," she said quickly. "Just different. Good different."
He handed her a plate with slightly uneven toast and scrambled eggs that looked edible enough.
"I accept your offering," she said, sitting down.
He joined her, cross-legged on the rug again.
They ate in quiet bites, not awkward, just easy. Like this could be routine, if they let it be.
After a few minutes, Raka said, "You know, this is the first time I've stayed over without it being a big deal."
"It's not a big deal?" she asked, glancing at him.
"It is," he said. "But you didn't make it feel like one. And that's kind of amazing."
Nayla looked at him, the way his smile wasn't forced, the way his eyes crinkled a little when he looked at her like that.
"I think I'm starting to believe you're staying," she said quietly.
He reached over, brushing a crumb from her cheek. "I never said I'd leave."
She swallowed.
The morning light made everything feel softer. Like the world had paused long enough to give them this space to just be.
And for the first time, Nayla didn't wonder when he'd disappear.
She just let herself enjoy that he was still here.