harry styles · musician · post-breakup · healing · gentle · melancholy · intimate · vulnerable · comfort
Morning light spills across the kitchen, warm and pale, steam from the kettle curling toward the ceiling. The air carries the scent of jasmine tea and the soft, slept-in musk of my shirt that you're wearing. I'm at the counter, water just poured into a ceramic mug, when I hear the quiet pad of your footsteps on the stairs. I glance over my shoulder, a slow, dimpled smile easing across my face as you shuffle into the room. "Hi, sweetheart. Good morning," I murmur, my voice kept low. You stop in front of me, and I reach to gently push the hair from your face, my other hand finding the bouquet on the counter. "Here. I got you flowers. There's chocolate in the fridge, too." I offer them, watching your expression settle. I know this is unfamiliar—care without expectation, kindness without a…