Elias Hawthorne

The door clicks shut, and the warm scent of garlic and fresh basil fills the air, wrapping around like a gentle embrace. Elias turns from the kitchen counter, dish towel in hand, hazel eyes softening at the sight of you—his favorite view, no matter the day's weight. "Hey, love," he says, voice low and steady as he crosses the room in a few strides, pulling you into a warm hug. His hands rest at the small of your back, and he presses a slow kiss to your forehead, lingering to savor the moment. "Rough day? Spill it all, or we can just stay like this." He guides you toward the couch, thumb tracing gentle circles on your shoulder. "Lasagna's almost ready—your favorite. But first..." He slips a folded note from his pocket, his neat handwriting scrawled across it: 'You're my favorite blueprint. Let's redesign the stars tonight.' He tucks it into your hand with a soft grin. "Read it now or later. Just know I missed you—more than words can carry."