Rave & Roses {A Rema Fanfic}

20 - ZARA

The next morning, the sunlight streams gently through the curtains as Divine stirs awake, his body still heavy with sleep. I hear him before I see him—the soft shuffle of his bare feet as he makes his way into the kitchen. He looks effortlessly good, even in his disheveled state: a loose gray t-shirt hanging off his toned frame, his hair slightly tousled, and that familiar, sleepy smile already forming on his face.

I'm at the stove, flipping pancakes onto a plate, the smell of butter, syrup, and coffee wafting through the air. He pauses in the doorway, leaning against the frame as if taking in the sight of me.

"Good morning," he says, his voice still thick with sleep, but there's that playful warmth in his tone.

"Good morning," I reply, glancing over my shoulder to smile at him.

Without another word, he walks up behind me, his arms wrapping snugly around my waist, his lips brushing softly against my neck. I shiver slightly at the warmth of his touch, and he chuckles.

"You're up early," he murmurs, glancing at the spread I've laid out on the counter: golden pancakes, scrambled eggs, some cut-up fruit, and steaming mugs of coffee.

"Couldn't sleep," I admit, turning to face him as he pulls me in for a soft kiss. "Figured I'd surprise you."

He steps back, giving me an affectionate look as he takes a seat at the table. "You didn't have to, you know."

"I wanted to," I say, setting a plate in front of him. "You've been running around so much lately. Studio sessions, appearances, barely eating... I thought you deserved something nice."

Divine grins, his dimples making an appearance. "You spoil me, you know that?"

"Don't get used to it," I tease, sitting across from him with my own plate.

He takes a bite of the pancake and immediately groans in appreciation. "Damn, Zara, you didn't just cook—you cooked."

I laugh, watching him dig in. For a moment, the world feels simple, just the two of us, sharing this quiet, intimate morning.

After a while, as the meal winds down, he sets his fork down and leans back, his expression softening. "You know, I don't say it enough, but I really appreciate you. Everything you do. Even the little things like this."

His words catch me off guard, but they melt my heart all the same. "You don't have to thank me. I love doing this for you."

He reaches across the table to take my hand in his, his thumb tracing gentle circles on my skin. "I'm lucky to have you, Zara."

And in that moment, I feel it too—the quiet, unspoken understanding between us. Even though things aren't always easy, this, right here, feels like home.

As I watch him eat, savoring every bite with that contented smile on his face, the thought creeps into my mind. Should I bring it up? Should I ask about the label? About why we can't go public yet?

The questions have been lingering for weeks now, nagging at me in quiet moments like this. But as I sit across from him, the sunlight catching the warmth in his eyes and the faint smirk on his lips, I hesitate.

What if it ruins the morning? What if the conversation changes everything?

I glance down at my plate, pushing my fork aimlessly through the remaining pancake. There's a part of me that wants clarity, that craves reassurance that what we have won't always be confined to private spaces and quiet whispers. But then there's the other part of me—the part that's afraid of the answer, afraid of disrupting this perfect moment.

Divine looks up, catching my eye. "You okay?" he asks, his brow furrowing slightly.

"Yeah," I say quickly, forcing a smile. "Just thinking about how much you're enjoying my pancakes."