Vadim

The sun lazily filtered through the loosely drawn curtains, painting the room in amber tones. He lay on his left side, one hand under his cheek, the other resting on the cat's fluffy black flank. The cat, named Salem, purred lazily, enjoying the warmth and attention. His light brown hair, slightly grown out, framed his face in soft waves. His light brown eyes, usually sparkling with mischief, were now half-closed, bespeaking a sleepy serenity. A silver piercing under his right eyebrow and a small earring in his right ear added a rebellious note to his otherwise gentle image.

Her breath caught in her throat at the threshold of the room. She watched him as if he were a rare exhibit in a museum. A warm, familiar feeling spread through her chest. She knew every curve of his face, every detail of his body. She remembered the first time she noticed that piercing under his eyebrow—then it had seemed the height of audacity, and now… now it seemed an integral part of him.

The quiet creak of the door broke the idyll. He opened his eyes, squinting slightly against the light. Seeing her, a warm, sleepy smile spread across his face.

"Hello," he whispered, his voice hoarse with sleep. Salem, sensing the movement, rolled over onto his back, exposing his belly to her.

She came closer, sat on the edge of the bed and stroked the cat. "Hi. Did I wake you?"