The home I dream of…

I often imagine a small house filled with light. The kind of place where mornings smell like coffee and evenings sound like laughter. No luxury - just warmth, peace, and someone to share it with.

Maybe happiness really is that simple: someone to ask, “How was your day?” Someone who makes you feel calm without saying a word.

I don’t dream of a perfect life - only of real one. With mismatched mugs, lazy Sundays, and arms that feel like home.