Cycling. A favourite routine of mine. This morning is no different. Grabbing my key and pulling on my helmet and gears, I hop on my bike and set off through the woods near by.

Weight was always a vital problem of mine. Even though I'm used to all the mocking I recieve on my appearance, I just don't want to hear the term fat again. Hence, the cycling. It's worth the pain and sweat. I've lost a few pounds already.

There's an added benefit. Cycling is quite refreshing. The cool breeze warming me in an embrace, the trees whose shades are home to many, the melodious twittering of the birds, the aroma of non-discrimination — tall, short, fat, slim, we're all the same in the midst of the woodland and the most thrilling aspect: the nervousness clouding the air, not sure of what lies ahead are all proofs to it.

As I pedal forward, I'm surrounded by the music of the songbirds. Moving along numerous trees, their voices grow louder. They begin ringing in my ears as if they're singing it to me. The song that started faint has now become clearer.

And then, I'm yawning. I'm no longer on my bike, but I can still hear the chirruping of the birds. I search through the softness beneath me and my fingers graze along something similar to that of a lamp. Snap.

All the pieces fall into place. I realise I'm on my bed and the doorbell is ringing.

Groaning, I pull the pillow over my head, wishing the annoying sound would just disappear. It doesn't. The intruder has an absolute death wish. Tossing and turning between the sheets, I fumble with the bedside lamp, switching it on. Propping myself on an elbow, I blink my eyes open, adjusting to the yellow light radiating in the dark.

My gaze shifts to the clock. It's 2 am. Frustrated with whoever it is that has disturbed my deep slumber, I yank myself off the bed. Forget who. But why in the world would you want to wake someone at two in the morning?

My mood is as swollen as my face. So I walk half-asleep into the living room, not in the least bothering to fix my messy hair or change the sweatshirt and pant I have on. I switch on the light and move towards the door. My hands find the knob and I pause to sleep for a millisecond longer, before pulling the door open, "What on earth do—"

Before I can even register it, an arm sneaks its way around my waist and I'm pulled closer to the intruder. Startled, I almost start panicking. Like water unexpectedly greeting my face, I return to my senses. Groggy from my sleep and simply irritated at the intrusion, I did not even think of the possibility that opening the door at dawn might be like welcoming danger into my arms. And then, I come face to face with the man. My man..?

Settling his other arm on the back of my waist, Derek tucks me against his neck, inhaling the sandalwood scent of my hair. "Cara.." he murmurs.

I close my eyes and wait till my racing heart calms down. Once it does, I press my palms against his chest and successfully push him off me with a slight struggle. Grumbling, he slumps down on the couch, "Took you so long to open the door and this is what I get."

"Uh-huh. I totally wouldn't be sleeping at two in the morning." Annoyed, I fold my arms and narrow my eyes on my husband.

"Fine. Sorry." He surrenders with his hands in the air. "I know you're mad, but I just wanted to surprise you." He grins, hopefully, may I add.

"At two in the morning." And the hope shatters. He knows he's up for my wrath and he's just about to face it.

-

Hi peeps, thank you for reading.
Any thoughts on this?