The morning light filtered softly through the white curtains, brushing across Leyla's face. She stirred, feeling warmth against her back — Ozan's arm was wrapped firmly around her waist, his breath steady against her neck.
She let out a small sigh, trying to shift, but his grip only tightened.
"Where do you think you're going, hmm?" his voice came out husky, still heavy from sleep.
Leyla giggled. "I was going to make us breakfast. Let me go!"
"No," he muttered, burying his face into her hair. "Stay. Five more minutes."
Leyla rolled her eyes playfully and poked his forehead. "You're hopeless, you know that?"
Ozan finally loosened his hold, only to flip her onto her back and hover above her, a mischievous glint in his eyes.
"Hopeless? Or hopelessly in love with you?" he teased, his fingers tracing her jawline gently.
She stuck out her tongue at him. "Both."
He chuckled, leaning down to steal a quick, soft kiss from her lips. Then another — slower this time, deeper, until she had to push him away lightly.
"Ozan! You said five minutes, not forever!" she scolded, her cheeks flushed.
He finally let her up, watching with fond eyes as she padded toward the kitchen in one of his shirts — far too big for her.
Later, she returned with a tray. "Your majesty, breakfast," she announced, pretending to bow.
He snorted. "You forgot to say 'handsome, charming, powerful king'."
She set the tray down and pinched his arm. "Dream on, king."
After that, they both went to the garden.
As they stepped outside, Leyla's eyes softened. Colorful roses, tulips, daisies, and delicate peonies swayed in the gentle morning breeze. Birds hopped among the petals, and the scent of fresh blooms wrapped around them like a soft promise.
Leyla took a deep breath, feeling completely at peace — something she had never thought possible before.
Ozan slipped an arm around her shoulders, pressing a kiss to her temple. "Do you like it?" he asked softly.
She turned to look at him, her eyes shining. "I love it. And I love you."
For a moment, his usually sharp, guarded gaze softened completely. He tilted her chin up, kissed her slowly, deeply — as if to seal her words into his soul forever.
When they pulled apart, she smacked his chest lightly. "Now stop being sappy and help me prune the roses."
He laughed, shaking his head. "You're going to boss me around forever, aren't you?"
"Obviously," she teased.
And as the sun began to set, painting the sky in hues of pink and gold, Leyla closed her eyes and finally understood — this was love. Messy, thorny, but achingly beautiful.
"With him, even the thorns felt like roses."