Rain drummed softly against the windows, the kind of rhythmic sound that made you want to curl up under a blanket and forget the world outside. It was a particularly dreary Sunday afternoon, and Ethan and I had finally found a slice of heaven— alone time.
I had planned this day down to the last detail. Candles flickered on the coffee table, casting a warm glow across the room. A soft, oversized blanket lay draped over the couch, perfect for cuddling. The TV was queued up with Sleepless in Seattle—a timeless rom-com classic I was sure Ethan would pretend to tolerate but secretly enjoy.
Everything screamed cozy, romantic, uninterrupted.
Or so I thought.
Just as Ethan slid his arm around me and we sank into the couch, the door creaked open. The familiar creak that sent my blood pressure skyrocketing.
