The smell of freshly brewed coffee drifted through the air, pulling Serena from the clutches of sleep. Her eyes fluttered open, the soft light of the morning spilling through the curtains. For a moment, she lay there, savoring the quiet hum of a new day.
It had been almost three months since Ryan had walked into her life, and now, Saturday mornings had taken on a new meaning. What once was a solitary ritual; her curling up on the couch with a steaming mug now was now something she shared, and it made every sip a little sweeter.
A soft knock at her bedroom door interrupted her thoughts.
"Good morning," Ryan's voice called through the door, warm and inviting. "Are you awake?"
Serena smiled. "Come in."
The door opened, and there he stood, holding two mugs of coffee. He was wearing a plain white T-shirt and a pair of gray sweatpants, his hair slightly tousled from sleep. He looked effortlessly comfortable, and Serena's heart gave a little flutter.
"I thought I'd get a head start on our morning tradition," he said, handing her a mug.
"Thank you," she replied, sitting up and wrapping her hands around the warm cup. The aroma was rich, earthy, and comforting; a blend he had introduced her to from his favorite roastery.
Ryan settled on the edge of her bed, his own mug in hand. "How did you sleep?"
"Like a rock," she admitted. "You?"
"Same," he said with a chuckle. "Though I might've been dreaming about pancakes."
Serena laughed. "Is that your way of asking for breakfast?"
"Maybe," he said, grinning. "But only if we make them together."
The thought of cooking with him sent a warm glow through her chest. She nodded, sipping her coffee. "Deal."
***
Half an hour later, they were in the kitchen. Serena wore a soft, oversized sweater, and Ryan had found an apron with a comical phrase on it: Kiss the Cook (or Else).
"Where did you even find that?" Serena asked, laughing as he tied it around his waist.
"In your drawer," he replied, feigning innocence. "Figured it was a sign."
Serena rolled her eyes but couldn't help smiling. "Alright, Mr. Pancake Dreamer, let's see your skills."
Ryan took on the role of mixer, whisking the batter with an exaggerated flourish, while Serena handled the toppings—blueberries, chocolate chips, and sliced bananas. They moved around the kitchen with ease, their rhythm unspoken but perfectly aligned.
"Blueberries or chocolate chips?" Serena asked, holding up the bowls.
"Both," Ryan said without hesitation.
"Ambitious," she teased, but she obliged, sprinkling a mix into the batter.
As the first pancake sizzled on the griddle, Ryan leaned against the counter, watching her. "You know," he said, "this is quickly becoming my favorite part of the week."
"What, pancakes?" Serena asked, flipping the pancake expertly.
"No," he said, his voice softer now. "This. Us. Mornings like this."
Serena paused, the spatula in her hand hovering mid-air. When she turned to look at him, his expression was open and sincere.
She felt a lump form in her throat. She had been hesitant at first, wary of letting someone into her carefully built routine. But Ryan had a way of fitting seamlessly into her life, making even the simplest moments feel special.
"I think it's becoming my favorite part too," she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper.
Ryan smiled, stepping closer. "Good," he said, brushing a strand of hair from her face. "Because I plan to stick around for many more."
Serena felt her cheeks warm, but before she could respond, the smell of something burning snapped them back to reality.
"The pancake!" she exclaimed, quickly turning back to the griddle.
Ryan burst out laughing as she tried to salvage the slightly charred pancake. "Looks like we've got our first casualty," he said.
"It's still edible," Serena insisted, cutting a piece and popping it into her mouth.
Ryan watched her, amused. "How is it?"
She made a face, then laughed. "Okay, maybe not."
They spent the next hour perfecting their pancake-making, laughing at their failed attempts and sneaking bites of toppings in between. When they finally sat down to eat, the stack of golden-brown pancakes before them felt like a small victory.
"You know," Ryan said, cutting into his stack, "we make a pretty good team."
"Don't let it go to your head," Serena teased, but her smile gave her away.
They ate in comfortable silence for a while, the sound of clinking forks and the occasional hum of approval filling the space.
After breakfast, they moved to the couch, still holding their mugs of coffee. Ryan stretched out, his arm draped casually over the back of the couch. Serena curled up beside him, feeling a contentment she hadn't known she was missing.
"So," he said, breaking the silence, "what's the plan for the rest of the day?"
"Honestly? I hadn't thought that far ahead," Serena admitted.
"Well, how about this," Ryan suggested. "We spend the morning here, maybe watch a movie or two, and then I'll take you to that bookstore you mentioned last week. You know, the one with the cozy reading nooks."
Serena looked up at him, surprised. "You remembered?"
"Of course I did," he said, brushing his thumb lightly against her shoulder. "I want to know all the places that make you happy."
Her chest tightened with emotion. Ryan had a way of making her feel seen, truly seen, in a way no one else had before.
"That sounds perfect," she said, leaning her head against his chest.
Ryan pressed a soft kiss to the top of her head, and for a while, they simply sat there, savoring the quiet intimacy of the moment.
Serena realized then that mornings weren't just a time to start the day, they were a chance to build something lasting, something beautiful. And with Ryan beside her, every morning felt like a promise of more to come.