The scent of brewing coffee filled the air as David read the opening pages, hidden on his wife Eliza's laptop, saved as a document titled “Project Gardenia.” Eliza, his rock, his sun. The protagonist, a woman with emerald eyes and a passion for old photographs, was undeniably Eliza. He found himself smiling, a slow, spreading warmth, as he recognized her little eccentricities, her favorite sayings.
He read on, quickly turning pages, devouring every line. The story wasn’t just a recounting of their life; it was a celebration. The little ways she made him feel seen, the way she could turn a bad day into a good one. He felt a deep sense of… *rightness* settling in his soul. He wanted to go tell her everything, and at the same time, he wanted to stay locked away in this world forever.
He heard the click of the front door. Eliza was home. He quickly closed the laptop, heart suddenly hammering.
Eliza walked into the kitchen, her cheeks flushed, a grocery bag in her hand. "Hey," she said, her voice bright. "Smells good in here."
He turned, a grin plastered on his face. He wrapped his arms around her, squeezing her tightly. "Morning coffee, for my favorite woman in the world."
She laughed. "I thought you were working. What are you so happy about?"
"Everything," he murmured into her hair. He pulled back, and touched her cheek. "Everything."