ONLY ONE BED

Clean linen and warm cake land together in a way that is both awkward and embarrassingly intimate—exactly the energy of two people insisting they’re fine sharing the same bed while pretending not to think about it too hard.

Linen – Fresh and softly warmed by skin. Pillows too close, blankets pulled tight, and breath shared in the dark.

Bergamot – Bright and citrusy, cutting through the tension. Nervous jokes, accidental touches, and the denial that maybe it isn’t so bad.

White Musk – Close and quiet, lingering on fabric. The scent of someone waking up inches away, hearts tripping over themselves before words catch up.

Coffee Cake – Sweet and comforting, golden at the edges. Morning after excuses, stolen bites shared over half-eyed smiles, and the realization that neither one of them slept much.

As it settles, there’s the feeling of a room too small, a bed too warm, and two people very determined not to admit just how much they wanted this to happen.