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

He looked back at the view. He realized then that the music wasn’t just about the melody or the drop—it was about the transition. The shift from the cold, blue hues of a lonely night to the warm, orange glow of a shared morning.

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

“I’ve been waking up to heartbreaks... but today I woke up in love.” Kygo, Gryffin, Calum Scott - Woke Up in Love

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.

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. He looked back at the view

Calum smiled, kissing the top of her head. “Just thinking about the playlist.”

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

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.

He looked back at the view. He realized then that the music wasn’t just about the melody or the drop—it was about the transition. The shift from the cold, blue hues of a lonely night to the warm, orange glow of a shared morning.

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

“I’ve been waking up to heartbreaks... but today I woke up in love.”

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.

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.

Calum smiled, kissing the top of her head. “Just thinking about the playlist.”

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.

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.