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Hazel’s POV
Living together turned out to be easier than I had imagined.
Not because we agreed on everything.
We didn’t.
It was because we listened.
Every morning began the same way.
I usually woke up first.
The apartment was quiet, the city still stretching awake outside our windows.
I would make coffee while the smell of fresh bread filled the kitchen.
A few minutes later, I would hear familiar footsteps.
“Good morning...”
Ethan’s voice was still sleepy.
I smiled over my shoulder.
“Morning.”
His dark hair was slightly messy, something no one at Blackwood Corporation would ever believe.
He looked less like the composed CEO everyone admired and more like the man I had come to know.
He kissed my forehead gently before reaching for his coffee mug.
“Thank you.”
“You say that every morning.”
“Because I mean it every morning.”
----
Weekends quickly became my favorite part of living together.
There were no alarms.
No board meetings.
No rushing across Manhattan.
One Saturday, I found Ethan sitting on the living room floor, surrounded by instruction manuals.
I blinked.
“What are you doing?”
He looked up with complete seriousness.
“Building a bookshelf.”
I looked at the dozens of wooden pieces scattered around him.
“How long have you been doing that?”
He checked his watch.
“An hour.”
“And?”
“I’ve successfully identified... several screws.”
I burst into laughter.
“My handsome gentleman...”
He looked at me with mock offense.
“I thought you had faith in me.”
“I do.”
I walked over and sat beside him.
“But perhaps not in your furniture-building skills.”
He laughed.
“Fair enough.”
Together, they spent the next two hours assembling the bookshelf.
It wasn’t perfect.
One shelf leaned slightly to the left.
Hazel pointed at it.
“It has personality.”
Ethan smiled.
“That’s a very generous description.”
----
Ethan’s POV
Watching Hazel fill the shelves with books made the apartment finally feel complete.
She carefully arranged each novel before stepping back to admire her work.
“What do you think?”
I looked at the finished shelves.
“They look perfect.”
She smiled proudly.
“See?”
“I told you we’d need more bookcases.”
“You were right.”
She folded her arms.
“I hope you’re prepared.”
“For what?”
“I’m planning to keep buying books.”
I laughed.
“I suspected as much.”
She walked over to me.
“So?”
“So...”
I pretended to think.
“I suppose we’ll just have to buy another bookshelf.”
She laughed.
“Hopefully one we don’t build ourselves.”
“I fully support that plan.”
----
That evening, rain began falling softly against the windows.
Hazel curled up on the sofa with a novel while I sat beside her reading reports on my tablet.
After several minutes, she gently nudged my arm.
“You’ve been reading emails for half an hour.”
“I know.”
“Take a break.”
I looked at her.
“You tell the CEO to stop working?”
“I tell Ethan.”
A smile found its way onto my face.
Without another word, I set the tablet aside.
“Better?”
“Much.”
She rested her head lightly against my shoulder.
Neither of us spoke.
The rain tapped softly against the glass.
A jazz record played quietly in the background.
It was one of those peaceful evenings that seemed almost too ordinary to remember.
Yet somehow...
Those ordinary moments became our favorites.
----
Later that night, as they prepared for bed, Hazel paused by the balcony doors.
The city lights stretched endlessly across the skyline.
“It’s beautiful.”
Ethan joined her.
“It is.”
She slipped her hand into his.
“When I moved to New York, I thought success meant having the perfect job.”
She smiled softly.
“Now I think it means coming home to someone who makes every ordinary day feel special.”
Ethan looked at her with quiet affection.
“You know something, orman g?zlüm?”
She looked up, smiling as she heard the nickname he had given her weeks before.
“What is it?”
“For years, I thought this apartment was just a place to sleep.”
He gently squeezed her hand.
“You turned it into a home.”
Hazel’s eyes softened.
“And you made it feel safe.”
The city shimmered below them, but neither of them was looking at the skyline anymore.
They were looking at each other.
Both realizing that happiness wasn’t found in grand gestures alone.
Sometimes...
It was hidden in shared breakfasts, rainy evenings, unfinished bookshelves, and the simple joy of saying, “I’m home.”
----
Hazel’s POV
Autumn arrived quietly.
The trees surrounding Central Park slowly turned shades of gold, amber, and crimson, painting the city in warm colors.
Our apartment had changed too.
Not in dramatic ways.
It simply looked... lived in.
A blanket was always folded over the sofa.
Books had begun appearing in little stacks beside the armchair.
Fresh flowers stood on the dining table almost every week.
One evening, I came home to find soft music drifting from the kitchen.
“Ethan?”
“I’m in here.”
I smiled as I stepped inside.
He was wearing a dark sweater with an apron tied around it.
I couldn’t help laughing.
“The apron again?”
He looked down at himself.
“I happen to like this apron.”
“It says Kiss the Cook.”
“It was a gift from Claire.”
“Somehow that doesn’t surprise me.”
He chuckled.
“She’s never going to let me forget my first attempt at cooking.”
I walked over and peeked into the pot simmering on the stove.
“It smells wonderful.”
“I’ve improved.”
“You have.”
I leaned up and kissed his cheek.
“I’m proud of you.”
He smiled.
“I’ll accept that as my official restaurant review.”
----
Ethan’s POV
Dinner had become my favorite part of the day.
Not because of the food.
Because it meant the workday was over.
Phones stayed on silent.
Laptops remained closed.
For an hour or two, the company could wait.
Hazel sat across from me, telling me about a new project she’d been leading.
Her eyes always lit up when she talked about solving problems.
“You should have seen Daniel’s face,” she said with a laugh.
“He thought the timeline couldn’t be shortened.”
“And then?”
“We found a better process.”
I smiled.
“I never doubted you would.”
She pointed her fork at me playfully.
“You always say that.”
“Because you keep proving me right.”
She laughed, shaking her head.
“I think you’re biased.”
“I think I’m observant.”
----
Hazel’s POV
The following Saturday, we decided to leave our phones at home.
“No emails,” Ethan declared.
“No calls,” I agreed.
“No work.”
“Definitely no work.”
We spent the morning wandering through a neighborhood farmers’ market, carrying a reusable bag that gradually filled with fresh bread, fruit, flowers, and homemade jam.
At one stall, an elderly woman smiled as we admired a bouquet of sunflowers.
“For your wife?”
I blinked.
Before I could answer, Ethan smiled politely.
“Not yet.”
Heat rushed to my cheeks.
The woman simply smiled wider.
“Well, whoever she is, she’s very lucky.”
As we walked away, neither of us spoke for a moment.
Finally, I nudged his arm.
“‘Not yet?’”
He looked at me, a little embarrassed.
“I may have answered before thinking.”
“And?”
He smiled softly.
“I didn’t mind the question.”
I slipped my hand into his.
“Neither did I.”
----
That evening, they arranged the sunflowers in a tall glass vase.
The apartment smelled faintly of fresh flowers and cinnamon from the pie cooling on the counter.
Hazel stood back to admire the room.
“It feels like us.”
Ethan wrapped an arm gently around her shoulders.
“It does.”
She leaned against him.
“You know what my favorite part is?”
“What?”
“It’s never the expensive things.”
She looked around the apartment.
“It’s dinner together.”
“It’s laughing over burnt pancakes.”
“It’s buying flowers at the market.”
“It’s quiet evenings on the balcony.”
Ethan nodded.
“The little moments.”
“The ones that become the memories.”
He smiled.
“I couldn’t agree more.”
Outside, the city lights flickered on one by one as evening settled over Manhattan.
Inside, the apartment was filled with warmth, quiet conversation, and the comforting certainty that home was no longer just a place.
It was the life they were building together—one ordinary, beautiful day at a time.