It was a lazy Sunday morning, and the apartment smelled like warm sunlight and trouble.
Aether had woken up early, determined to surprise Hu Tao with a homemade breakfast. Inspired by a late-night cooking video titled "10 Pancake Flips That Could Save Your Marriage", he felt oddly confident. After all, how hard could pancakes be? Just mix, flip, and voilà—domestic bliss.
With an apron that read "Kiss the Chef (Only If You Dare)", he stood proudly in the kitchen. The batter was already made, though maybe a little too thick. The stove was hot—perhaps too hot. But Aether was committed.
Enter Hu Tao, her hair still messy from sleep, wearing an oversized hoodie that read "Professional Nuisance". She rubbed her eyes and sniffed the air.
"Hmm," she mumbled, "smells like… ambition."
Aether beamed. "Sit down. I'm making pancakes."
"Brave of you," she said, flopping onto a stool with all the grace of a sleepy cat.
The first pancake came out looking… passable. The second looked more like a map of Mondstadt. The third caught fire.
"Everything okay in there?" Hu Tao called sweetly, not even looking up from her phone.
"Totally!" Aether lied, frantically blowing at a small flame that had appeared on the edge of the pan. He managed to smother it with a dish towel before Hu Tao noticed. Or so he thought.
When he placed the final stack of pancakes on the table, they were slightly uneven, oddly colored, and leaning like a sugary version of the Leaning Tower of Pisa.
Hu Tao took a bite.
She paused.
Then, with a deadpan expression, said, "These are… indescribable. Which is perfect. Because I have no words."
Aether deflated. "That bad?"
She grinned. "Nope. They're hilariously you. A little burnt, a little chaotic, but made with love."
He laughed. "That might be the nicest insult I've ever received."
They spent the next half hour devouring the pancakes—topped with far too much syrup and laughter. Hu Tao, of course, declared herself the official Pancake Critic of Teyvat and rated the meal "7/10 with bonus points for drama."
As they cleaned up, she leaned over and kissed his cheek. "Don't worry, next week I cook. Hope you like your eggs scrambled with existential dread."
Aether groaned. "I'm doomed."
But as the morning sun poured into their kitchen and the chaos of breakfast faded into cozy quiet, there was no denying it: married life—with all its little disasters—was exactly what they both needed.