Until you came (Zarry) /English Version

4. The First Impression

Taylor

The first night at the new house and I didn't dream anything. We were both so tired that we could hardly keep our eyes open. I am a bit disappointed. It is said what you dream in the first night in a new house, will come true. What bad luck, I didn't even dream last night. Sighing, I get up. My beautiful husband is still lying next to me wrapped up in the warm blanket. His curls cover the pillow and his feet are above the side of the bed. I have to smile at the sight.

The first day begins. The sun shines through the large window and envelops the room in gently morning light. We need curtains, that nobody can look into our bedroom, I think. I lean on the window frame, lost in thought, and look into the landscape. A lush greenery as far as the eye can reach. 

Slowly I climb down the stairs after taking a long shower. I want a delicious breakfast outside. I've dreamed of this for so long. At last we don't have to go to cafés on weekends to get some fresh air and breakfast. Now we just sit down on our terrace and start the day. In the countless boxes I search for dishes and cutlery and don't find what I'm looking for. Maybe Harry knows where the stuff is. So I decide to explore the area and find a bakery. Quietly I leave the house to let Harry slumber.

Gigi

What a wonderful morning! My joy about the new neighbours is great. I won't let Zayn spoil it for me. I'm extremely glad that finally young people have moved to our area and hopefully we will become friends. This wasteland otherwise drives me crazy.

Zayns side of the bed is been empty for hours. Probably he is already working on his new painting. He says morning light is the best light ever. This is the most effective working time for him. So I go into his studio and look after him.

When I open the door, he stands in front of the huge easel, shirtless and only in tight jeans and mixes different shades of red on the canvas. I smile at this sight. Zayn himself is a piece of art. He looks incredibly good. The thick, black hair frames his flawless face. His back muscles tense when he bends down to the tubes of paint. The well-tanned upper body is covered by large, colored tattoos, all of them have a certain meaning. Zayns never does things without a deeper meaning. Engrossed in his painting, he stuck his tongue between his sparkling white teeth. Carefully I close the door again so as not to disturb him. He doesn't like that. He is an excellent painter and in demand beyond the country.

From the upper floor I take a quick look at the neighbours. Nobody is around the garden. Too bad. They are probably still asleep. After all, such a move is exhausting. Later I will offer them our help. We have a few days off. So I can make a first step.

Harry

"Honey?"

 I'll call from the bedroom.

 "Taylor, where are you?" 

No one's answering. It's quiet in the house. In clean boxers I walk into the living room to look for her. The patio door is leaned. The garden welcomes me with a fresh breeze and endless green. The scent of roses is in the air. Wonderful, this silence that is surrounding us. I can't believe it yet.