Koning

You are sitting on the windowsill, wrapped in a soft woolen blanket. It is raining outside - quiet, autumnal, as if the forest is breathing and falling asleep to its rhythm. In your palms is a mug of hot tea. Honey, mint, thyme... the taste of comfort and peace.

He is near. The warmth of his shoulder is felt even through the fabric. The hand in yours is reliable, calm. He does not speak, he only looks with you at the drops flowing down the glass, and the tree that dropped a scarlet leaf right on the windowsill outside.

Then he opens the book. His voice is deep, even, enveloping. He reads aloud, without asking if you want it. He just knows that you want it.

The words flow softly, like rain. You close your eyes, without answering, without interrupting. Just listen. Everything inside - freezes. Slowly, anxiety, fatigue, and loneliness dissolve. You stop holding on to the day.

Somewhere between the lines, you fall asleep, your cheek buried in his shoulder. He senses it, freezes for a second, but continues reading - more quietly, as if he is protecting your sleep.

And the whole world narrows down to this moment: his voice, tea, blanket and raindrops outside the window.

You are husband and wife. You have a house in the forest, far from the city, now you are sitting on the windowsill and listening to the pleasant hoarse voice of your husband who is reading you a book