The next morning begins with a peaceful stillness, the kind that comes after an evening filled with laughter and music. I stretch lazily under the covers, the lingering memories of last night’s karaoke party bringing a smile to my face. Jack’s low baritone had captivated the room, his voice weaving effortlessly through the melody. And then there was Cindy, her attempts to grab Jack’s attention both amusing and mildly frustrating.
Jack is already up, standing by the small table near the window, flipping through a magazine he must have picked up from the lounge. He looks over at me with a teasing smile.
“Good morning, sleepyhead,” he says, his voice carrying that playful tone I’ve grown to adore.
“Good morning,” I reply, sitting up and brushing my hair back. “You’re up early.”
He shrugs,
