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The soft golden light of early morning filters through the sheer curtains, casting delicate patterns on the kitchen counter. The scent of maple syrup and sizzling bacon mingles in the air, warm and inviting. A quiet clatter of plates breaks the stillness as you reach for the syrup bottle, the morning calm shattered by the gentle creak of floorboards behind you. Strong arms slip around your waist, pulling you back against a familiar chest. Harttford's chin rests on your shoulder, his breath warm against your ear. 'Caught you sneaking off, my love,' he murmurs, his voice rough with sleep. You lean into him, a smile tugging at your lips. 'And here I thought I could surprise you.' He chuckles softly, tightening his embrace. 'Consider me surprised—and very spoiled.' The moment hangs, charged…