Kygo, Gryffin, Calum Scott - — Woke Up In Love

He heard the rustle of sheets from the bedroom. A few moments later, she appeared in the doorway, wearing his oversized tour hoodie, her hair a messy crown of blonde tangles. She didn’t say anything at first; she just walked over and leaned her head against his shoulder while the coffee dripped.

The sun climbed higher, hitting the speakers on the shelf. He reached out, pressed play on the demo, and let the first few notes of the guitar fill the house. As the vocals kicked in, he realized he wasn't just singing a story anymore. He was living it. He hadn't just woken up. He had finally arrived. Kygo, Gryffin, Calum Scott - Woke Up in Love

He didn't feel the urge to run. He didn't feel the weight of a looming goodbye. For the first time in a long time, the song in his head matched the life in his living room. He heard the rustle of sheets from the bedroom

It had been a blur of neon lights, high-tempo beats, and the kind of laughter that makes your chest ache in the best way. He remembered the feeling of the bass—Kygo’s signature tropical synths dancing with Gryffin’s driving guitar melodies—echoing through the canyon as they drove with the top down. The sun climbed higher, hitting the speakers on the shelf

He stood up, his bare feet hitting the cool hardwood. He walked to the window, watching the Pacific tide pull back from the shore. The lyrics of the song they’d been working on circled his head like a soft hum.

In the kitchen, the espresso machine began to hiss. The smell of dark roast filled the air, cutting through the saltiness of the sea breeze. He thought about the years spent chasing ghosts, the nights spent in hotel rooms where the only company was a minibar and a muted television. He had become an expert at the "lonely exit"—leaving before the sun could expose the fact that he didn’t want to stay. But this was different.

“Still?” She laughed, reaching for a mug. “The song is finished, Calum. It’s perfect.”