Composure. Coffee. Especially coffee.
But as I open the door and step out, a cheeky voice and that face that has already started to provoke a mix of annoyance and curiosity in me, appear right in front of me.
"Good morning, dear future wife. Did you sleep well?"
I froze in my tracks. I looked at him. I attempted to glare at him. He, naturally, sees it as part of the game.
"I slept well, thank you. But it's not a good morning," I replied, not hiding my annoyance. "For obvious reasons, of course."
His smile doesn't waver. On the contrary, it grows even more brazen. As if my bad mood fuels him.
"Besides being beautiful, you're very funny. I find you delightful, you know?"
"I don't need you to find me delightful. I need you to step aside," I reply curtly.
But he doesn't give up. He ste
