The morning light in Malibu wasn’t just bright; it was gold. It spilled over the edge of the balcony, catching the condensation on a half-empty glass of water. Calum woke up to a silence that felt heavy, yet peaceful. He didn’t need to look to his left to know the space was occupied, but he did anyway. There she was.
In the kitchen, the espresso machine began to hiss. The smell of dark roast filled the air, cutting through the saltiness of the sea breeze. He thought about the years spent chasing ghosts, the nights spent in hotel rooms where the only company was a minibar and a muted television. He had become an expert at the "lonely exit"—leaving before the sun could expose the fact that he didn’t want to stay. But this was different.
It had been a blur of neon lights, high-tempo beats, and the kind of laughter that makes your chest ache in the best way. He remembered the feeling of the bass—Kygo’s signature tropical synths dancing with Gryffin’s driving guitar melodies—echoing through the canyon as they drove with the top down.
Calum smiled, kissing the top of her head. “Just thinking about the playlist.”
He looked back at the view. He realized then that the music wasn’t just about the melody or the drop—it was about the transition. The shift from the cold, blue hues of a lonely night to the warm, orange glow of a shared morning.
He didn't feel the urge to run. He didn't feel the weight of a looming goodbye. For the first time in a long time, the song in his head matched the life in his living room.
He heard the rustle of sheets from the bedroom. A few moments later, she appeared in the doorway, wearing his oversized tour hoodie, her hair a messy crown of blonde tangles. She didn’t say anything at first; she just walked over and leaned her head against his shoulder while the coffee dripped.
“I’ve been waking up to heartbreaks... but today I woke up in love.”
The morning light in Malibu wasn’t just bright; it was gold. It spilled over the edge of the balcony, catching the condensation on a half-empty glass of water. Calum woke up to a silence that felt heavy, yet peaceful. He didn’t need to look to his left to know the space was occupied, but he did anyway. There she was.
In the kitchen, the espresso machine began to hiss. The smell of dark roast filled the air, cutting through the saltiness of the sea breeze. He thought about the years spent chasing ghosts, the nights spent in hotel rooms where the only company was a minibar and a muted television. He had become an expert at the "lonely exit"—leaving before the sun could expose the fact that he didn’t want to stay. But this was different.
It had been a blur of neon lights, high-tempo beats, and the kind of laughter that makes your chest ache in the best way. He remembered the feeling of the bass—Kygo’s signature tropical synths dancing with Gryffin’s driving guitar melodies—echoing through the canyon as they drove with the top down. Kygo, Gryffin, Calum Scott - Woke Up in Love
Calum smiled, kissing the top of her head. “Just thinking about the playlist.”
He looked back at the view. He realized then that the music wasn’t just about the melody or the drop—it was about the transition. The shift from the cold, blue hues of a lonely night to the warm, orange glow of a shared morning. The morning light in Malibu wasn’t just bright;
He didn't feel the urge to run. He didn't feel the weight of a looming goodbye. For the first time in a long time, the song in his head matched the life in his living room.
He heard the rustle of sheets from the bedroom. A few moments later, she appeared in the doorway, wearing his oversized tour hoodie, her hair a messy crown of blonde tangles. She didn’t say anything at first; she just walked over and leaned her head against his shoulder while the coffee dripped. He didn’t need to look to his left
“I’ve been waking up to heartbreaks... but today I woke up in love.”