At the start of October, the mornings were turning chilly. Aliya shivered and moved closer to Dylan's side of the bed, seeking warmth. Her hand met empty space, and the coolness jolted her awake. Blinking, she sat up and looked around the room that had been hers for the past five months.

The room had a cozy feel, painted in soft, foggy greens and browns that reminded her of a forest. Various plants in pots and glass bottles lined the windowsills, their leaves casting delicate shadows in the early morning light. A few candles, which Aliya loved to light in the evenings, stood on the oak table that dominated one corner of the room. The table was cluttered with books, reflecting Dylan's passion for literature. Above it hung a large photograph of them from their first Valentine's Day together.

Aliya rubbed her eyes, feeling the chill in the air. It was Saturday, and Dylan, who had recently started his master's degree in English, should have been in bed next to her. Instead, he was nowhere to be seen.

She swung her legs over the side of the bed and stood up, her bare feet pressing into the cool wooden floor. Wrapping a blanket around her shoulders, she shuffled to the window and peered out into the gray morning. The street below was quiet, with only a few early risers out and about.

Turning away from the view, she sighed softly and moved toward the door. As she reached for the brass doorknob, its coolness contrasted sharply with the room's warmth. The old, wooden floor creaked under her bare feet as she stepped into the hallway, rubbing her eyes and adjusting the blanket. She could hear the soft murmur of Dylan's voice coming from the kitchen. He was talking on the phone, his tone relaxed and easy. She paused for a moment, straining to catch his words before continuing down the hallway.

The blanket trailing behind her like a cloak. She could see the light spilling out from the kitchen, casting long shadows on the walls. As she approached, Dylan's voice became clearer. Leaning against the frame, she took in the scene.

Dylan stood by the counter, a tall, lean figure in a gray t-shirt and faded jeans. His hair was tousled, likely from running his hands through it as he cooked. The t-shirt clung to his shoulders, outlining his athletic build. He held a phone to his ear with one hand while the other hovered uncertainly over a chopping board covered with onion slices. The air was filled with the sharp scent of onions and the earthy smell of fresh-cut vegetables.

"Do I put the onion in now?" Dylan asked into the phone, his brow furrowed in concentration. His voice was calm but had a hint of doubt.

"Yeah, just add them in now. Make sure the oil is hot first," a woman's voice crackled through the phone.

Dylan nodded, though the person on the other end couldn't see him. He set the phone down on speaker mode and picked up the wooden spoon, giving the pan a cautious stir.

Aliya smiled softly, her gaze drifting from the messy countertop to Dylan's face, which was lit with the warm glow of the kitchen light. His brown eyes flicked toward her, and he gave a quick, distracted smile before focusing back on his call. She moved closer, her steps light and deliberate, and leaned over the counter to get a better view of the pan. 'Need any help?' she asked, her tone teasing. Dylan grinned, handing her a wooden spoon. 'Can you stir this while I chop the cilantro?' he asked. Aliya took the spoon, her fingers brushing against his, and began stirring the pot.

"Is it my mom on the phone?" Aliya asked, her voice gentle but curious.

Dylan glanced up, meeting her gaze for a brief moment. Aliya's eyes, a deep, warm brown, sparkled with curiosity and a hint of amusement. He felt a small smile tug at the corners of his mouth.

"Yeah," he replied, "making your favorite onion upma."

"Smells good already," she said, her voice warm and full of genuine appreciation.

Dylan couldn't help but smile wider. "Your mom said to let the mustard seeds pop before adding the onions," he explained, hoping his voice sounded more confident than he felt. Cooking Indian was new territory for him, and he wanted to get it right, especially with Aliya watching.

Aliya nodded, her eyes never leaving him. She leaned against the counter, her fingers lightly drumming on the surface. "How do you do it?" she asked, her tone curious and sincere.

Dylan looked up, puzzled. "Do what?"

"Make everyone feel so good," she said softly. "My mom hated most of the guys I've ever mentioned, but with you... she really likes you."

Dylan felt a warm flush rise in his cheeks. He chuckled, trying to lighten the moment. "Oh, it's my face. All in the charm," he joked, flashing her a playful grin.

Aliya laughed, a light, melodious sound that filled the kitchen. Abandoning the spoon, he turned fully to face her, his expression softening as he took in her radiant smile.

"Come here," he said, his voice low and playful. He took a step toward her, his hand reaching out to brush a stray hair from her face.

Aliya's eyes widened slightly. "Stop, Dylan. Ma is still on the phone," she whispered, glancing nervously toward the mobile.

Without missing a beat, Dylan reached over and ended the call. "Not anymore," he said, smiling. He leaned in closer, his breath brushing against Aliya's cheek, warm and inviting. A shiver ran down her spine at the intimate proximity.

Before Aliya could protest, Dylan's strong arms encircled her waist, pulling her snugly against him. His hands were warm and firm, a steadying presence as her heart raced. He tilted his head, his eyes locking onto hers for a moment, filled with a mix of mischief and affection. Then, his lips met hers in a kiss that was both soft and insistent. Aliya melted into it, her initial surprise giving way to a fervent response, her arms slipping around his neck, fingers tangling in his hair.

When they finally broke the kiss, both were breathless, a little dazed. Dylan's eyes sparkled with playful delight as he gazed down at her, his lips curved into a satisfied smile. Aliya's cheeks were flushed, a rosy hue spreading across her face, and she couldn't help but return his smile, feeling a warmth that started in her chest and spread throughout her body.

"Alright, Mr. Boyfriend," she teased, giving him a playful shove towards the stove. "Let's see how your upma turns out."

Dylan grinned widely, a mischievous twinkle in his eye as he took charge. He grabbed a handful of vegetables, tossing them into the pan with a dramatic flourish. The sharp, savory aroma quickly filled the small kitchen, mingling with the sizzling sound of onions and vegetables hitting hot oil. He stirred with energetic precision, the pan hissing and popping under his touch.

Aliya watched him, her eyes tracing the lines of his face as he cooked. His brow furrowed slightly in concentration, the corners of his mouth twitching upwards every so often as he glanced her way. There was something endearing about the way he moved, each motion deliberate yet relaxed, as if he found joy in the simple act of preparing a meal.

A few minutes later, breakfast was ready. They sat down at the small kitchen table, the steaming bowls of Upma between them. Aliya took a bite, her eyes lighting up with delight. "This is really good," she said, her voice filled with genuine approval.

Dylan's smile broadened, his eyes lighting up with a mixture of pride and adoration. He watched Aliya as she took another bite of the upma, her face glowing with delight. Her dark hair fell in soft waves around her shoulders, and her eyes sparkled with genuine happiness. The sight of her enjoying the dish made his effort worthwhile, even if upma wasn't his favorite.

Taking a bite himself, Dylan fought to hide a slight grimace. The texture was grainy, and the taste wasn't quite to his liking, but seeing Aliya's joy made it all worth it. He swallowed quickly and flashed her a supportive smile.

As they finished their meal, Dylan stood up, his tall frame casting a shadow over the table. He began gathering the dishes, his movements smooth and efficient. "I'll clean up," he said, his voice firm with determination. He walked toward the sink, his broad shoulders set with purpose.

Before he could reach the sink, Aliya's hand darted out, her fingers wrapping gently around his wrist. Her touch was warm and insistent, halting him in his tracks. "No way," she said, her voice playful yet firm. She shook her head, her grin widening. "You cooked. It's my turn to clean up."

Dylan paused, looking down at her hand on his wrist. Her grip was gentle but unyielding, her slender fingers contrasting against his rougher skin. He could feel the warmth of her palm seeping into his skin. With a chuckle, he let go of the dishes and stepped back. "Alright, alright," he conceded, raising his hands in mock surrender.

Aliya flashed him a triumphant smile, her eyes crinkling at the corners. She stood up and began collecting the dishes, her movements fluid and graceful. As she walked towards the sink, she started humming softly, the tune of "Shake It Off" filling the kitchen. Her voice was light and melodic, and she swayed her hips slightly to the rhythm as she began washing the dishes.

Dylan leaned against the counter, crossing his arms over his chest as he watched her. He couldn't help but smile as he observed her. Her joy was infectious, and her energy filled the room. The way she moved, so naturally and confidently, captivated him.

Aliya scrubbed a plate, her fingers deft and sure, the soapy water bubbling around her hands. Her dark hair fell forward, and she brushed it back with a quick, practiced motion, not missing a beat in her song. She glanced over her shoulder at Dylan, catching him watching her. "Enjoying the show?" she teased, raising an eyebrow.

Dylan's eyes sparkled with an idea. "Absolutely. You know, Aliya," he began, his tone thoughtful, "you have an amazing voice. I have an idea."

Aliya laughed, shaking her head. "Oh, Dilly, your ideas are dangerous. Yesterday, you told that seller on the phone that your girlfriend would come and scold him."

Dylan grinned, his excitement undiminished. "I'm serious this time."

"About what?" she asked, tilting her head slightly, her curiosity piqued.

"We should share it with more people," Dylan said, his eyes bright with enthusiasm.

Aliya turned off the tap, she glanced back at him, curiosity and skepticism flickering in her eyes. With a quick, fluid motion, she grabbed a towel and dried her hands, then turned to face him fully. Raising an eyebrow. "What do you mean?" she asked, her voice laced with both intrigue and doubt.

As she turned off the tap, a mix of curiosity and skepticism flickered in her eyes. She raised an eyebrow. "What do you mean?"

Dylan stepped closer, excitement brimming in his voice. "I mean, let's make a video of you singing and post it on TikTok and YouTube." He grabbed her hand, leading her toward the living room. "The world needs to see how talented and smart you are."

Aliya's deep brown eyes flickered with amusement. She dug her heels into the floor, stopping him from pulling her any further. A small smile tugged at the corners of her lips, giving her a playful look. "No way," she said, shaking her head.

Dylan spun around, his eyes pleading. "Trust me, Alu. You're amazing. I want everyone to know my girlfriend is the best." He gestured dramatically toward the couch, envisioning her viral success. "Just one song. It'll be fun, I promise!"

Aliya let out a soft chuckle, shaking her head slightly so her dark, glossy hair shifted over her shoulders. "You like everything I do, Dylan. That doesn't mean everyone else will."

"Aliya, please," he urged, his grip on her hands tightening just a bit, enough to convey his sincerity without making her uncomfortable.

Aliya looked down at their joined hands, feeling the warmth of his skin against hers, the sincerity in his touch. She took a deep breath, her chest rising and falling slowly, and nodded, her eyes meeting his again with a mix of determination and vulnerability. "Okay, but what would I even sing?"

Dylan's face lit up with a broad smile, his brown eyes sparkling with excitement. "How about some Adele? Your voice would be perfect for one of her songs."

Aliya tilted her head, considering the suggestion. A mischievous glint appeared in her eyes as she stepped closer, tapping her chin. "How about one of your poems? We could turn it into a song."

Dylan's eyes widened with surprise and delight. His eyebrows shot up, and he let out a small, incredulous laugh. "You really think one of my poems could work as a song?"

"Absolutely," Aliya replied, her confidence unwavering as she squeezed his hands gently. "If you write me a song, I will sing it."

Dylan's expression softened, and he nodded eagerly, his mind already racing with ideas. "Alright, give me a few days. I'll write something special."

Aliya smiled, feeling a warm flush spread across her cheeks. She felt a mix of excitement and nervousness about the prospect. Singing was something she loved, but sharing it with the world was a daunting idea.