Sebastian's POV
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I woke up to the smell of toast. Not burnt toast—Ray had figured out the toaster finally—but the soft, warm kind. Buttery. Crisp edges. Sweet, like honey.
And the sound of humming.
Her humming.
God.
I cracked an eye open, blinking into the quiet morning. The sun poured through the curtains, pale and gold. And in my kitchen—in my kitchen—there she was.
Hair up in the messiest bun known to mankind, wearing my sweatshirt that hung off her shoulder like it was made to be there. She was swaying a little, barefoot on the tile, plating breakfast like it was her job.
I didn't even know I was smiling until she turned and saw me standing there. Her eyes widened like she'd been caught stealing, then softened instantly.
"You should be resting," she said, hurrying over to me, eyes flicking to the healing cut on my arm. "Are you crazy? You're bleeding, bruised, and now you're up walking around like you're invincible—"
"I smelled food," I murmured, letting her fuss. "And you. You smell better than the food."
Her cheeks flushed. "Sit."
"Yes, ma'am."
I sat obediently at the breakfast bar while she poured tea into a chipped mug and slid a plate in front of me. Scrambled eggs, toast, sliced strawberries arranged like some Pinterest photo. She was ridiculous. And perfect.
Then she did it.
She picked up a piece of toast, dipped it in the honey, and held it out to me.
"I'm not a child," I said, smirking, but I leaned forward anyway.
She just raised an eyebrow, like don't even start with me.
I bit into the toast. She held it like it was the most natural thing in the world—feeding me like I was something precious. Her fingers brushed my lip, and neither of us moved for a second. Her eyes lingered. Mine stayed locked on hers.
"You're staring," I said, voice low.
"So are you," she whispered, a little breathless.
"Can't help it," I murmured. "You're the only soft thing in my whole damn world."
Her breath hitched. I leaned forward, gently caught her hand—the one that fed me—and pressed a kiss to her knuckles.
Her other hand reached out and brushed my hair back from my forehead. "Eat the rest before it gets cold."
"Yes, ma'am," I said again, but this time it sounded like a promise.
And just like that, in a kitchen full of warmth and toast and her soft humming…
I knew I was never walking away from this girl.