"It's a beautiful day, the sky falls, and you feel like it's a beautiful day—don't let it get away."
The emotions inside Hugo's chest turned into a melody that slipped naturally from his lips. In front of that dazzling sunrise, his imagination spread its wings, transforming every trace of beauty into music that soared freely in the air. His voice, still rough from the hangover, carried a raspy edge to its usual warm tone, but the hoarse timbre only added color and depth to the line, filling it with unrestrained emotion.
Nature's grandeur often stirs something deep within people—sometimes it's a shout, sometimes a sigh, sometimes a rush of creative inspiration. A poet might be moved to write verses upon seeing such a magnificent sight; for Hugo, a songwriter, the feeling immediately turned into melody. It was such a pure, intoxicating sensation that he didn't want to wake from it.
Leonardo, hearing Hugo sing, instinctively turned his head. He wanted to look, but couldn't bear to take his eyes off the sunrise. Still, the echo of Hugo's melody lingered in his ears, pulling his attention back. Finally, unable to resist, he asked, "What song is that?"
Hugo shrugged. "No idea. I just made it up."
Those two lines of lyrics kept circling in his head, but he couldn't quite piece them into a complete song. He didn't force it—he simply hummed the tune again and again, letting it float into the morning air.
"You mean, right now?" Leonardo asked in disbelief. He'd never actually seen a musician compose something on the spot—it felt as miraculous as the sunrise itself.
"Yeah," Hugo said with a smile, nodding. "But that's all there is for now—just those two lines. I don't know if it's the beauty of the sunrise freezing my brain, or the alcohol still messing with it, but that's all I've got."
Creation had always been a matter of inspiration. Sometimes Hugo could, like on The Oprah Winfrey Show, write something on command—like his song Sunburn. Other times, moments like this would come—just a fleeting fragment, waiting to be completed someday when the right spark returned.
Leonardo wanted to tease him but his brain wasn't working well enough after the long night. He managed only, "So what's this one called?"
"You're not seriously asking me to name a song with just two lines, are you?" Hugo laughed. "But fine—just so I remember it later, let's call it Beautiful Day for now."
Leonardo repeated the name softly twice under his breath, then fell silent again, turning his eyes back to the horizon. He closed them briefly, feeling the sunlight warming his skin.
When the sun finally climbed to about thirty degrees above the sea, its rise began to slow. Hugo motioned for Leonardo to stand. They brushed the sand from their clothes and began walking back toward Third Street—one set of deep footprints and one shallow—while the golden morning light stretched behind them, bathing the first dawn of the year in radiant beauty.
Back on Third Street, it didn't take long for Hugo and Leonardo to find Alex and the others at Barney's Beer. No one had gone home—they were all slumped over the bar tables, fast asleep. Clearly, no one had noticed that Hugo and Leonardo had disappeared, just as the two hadn't noticed that Tobey and Kal had gone missing too. After a short while, Tobey and Kal stumbled in, looking no better off. As for Charlize, she had apparently passed out with a group of girls in the staff lounge upstairs. Everyone had clearly partied straight through until dawn.
After a night of drinking, everyone woke up with pounding headaches. No one was in any condition to drive, so they used the bar's phone to call a cab and headed home separately. Hugo forced himself to take a shower—he was covered in sand and vomit, and there was no way he could rest like that. Only after cleaning up did he collapse onto his bed and drift into a deep, dreamless sleep.
He didn't know how long he'd been out when he felt someone shaking him awake. Groaning, Hugo tried to open his eyes, but his eyelids felt swollen and heavy—almost painful. When he finally managed to see clearly, Uma was sitting at the foot of his bed, watching him intently.
Hugo rubbed his eyes and pushed himself halfway up, blinking groggily at her, unsure what to say. Uma curved her lips into a faint smile. "Had fun last night?"
Hugo sat up fully but didn't answer right away. He lowered his gaze, pausing for a moment before muttering a quiet, "Yeah."
Seeing his subdued reaction, Uma realized Hugo was still upset about what had happened the night before. She gently placed her hand on his ankle, urging him to look at her. "I'm sorry," she said softly. "I really am. About last night."
Her green eyes shone with sincerity, never leaving his face. She wanted him to feel that her apology came from the heart.
Hugo parted his lips, trying to find the right words, but before he could speak, Uma stood up and walked to the table by the door. She picked up a tray and brought it over. On it were a glass of warm milk and two slices of toast spread with honey. Sitting back down on the edge of the bed, she smiled faintly. "I know you drank too much last night. Your head must be killing you. Warm milk should help a little."
She placed the tray on her lap and handed the glass to Hugo.
Hugo stared at the steaming cup in front of him but didn't reach for it. Uma widened her eyes at him, then nudged the cup forward slightly her way of showing an apology. Hugo let out a quiet sigh and finally took it. Seeing that, Uma's face instantly lit up with a bright smile. "Careful, it's hot," she reminded softly.
Hugo lowered his head and took a sip. The warm milk slid down his throat into his stomach, slowly melting the cold ache inside. He immediately felt better. After watching the sunrise that morning and taking a short nap afterward, the hangover had mostly passed — only a bit of laziness lingered in his body. Now, with a cup of milk, the stiffness began to fade away.
Uma then lifted the toast. "I heard it's bad to drink milk on an empty stomach after drinking. Eat a bit of toast to line your stomach," she said. Her voice, usually sharp and bold, was unusually gentle today. Hugo wasn't quite used to it, but he understood — this was her way of apologizing. "It's nearly lunchtime anyway. Eat something first, then wash up, and we'll figure out what to have for lunch."
This time, Hugo didn't refuse. He took the toast. Lightly toasted, with a faint honeyed aroma, it paired perfectly with the milk, making everything seem just a little better.
Uma placed the plate on the floor and began massaging Hugo's legs. Her overly obvious attempt to please him made Hugo laugh out loud. "You're not a professional masseuse. You can stop pretending."
But Uma didn't stop. Her hands kept working earnestly. "Your legs are swollen. Let me help a bit, then you can take a bath. You'll feel much better." She kept her head lowered, focusing entirely on his legs.
Looking at her like this, Hugo felt his irritation gradually melt away. Though he still couldn't understand why Uma chose to stay at Sydney's place last night, he had to admit she was right — he had his own thoughts, and she had hers. He couldn't expect her to live by his rules any more than she could expect him to live by hers.
"You know, Alex was really disappointed when you didn't show up last night," Hugo finally said. His voice was still a little hoarse, carrying a lazy sensuality. Uma's head immediately lifted. Her eyes sparkled with joy at hearing him speak, but then she realized the seriousness of his words and quickly composed herself, nodding earnestly.
"I know," Uma replied. "I'll go apologize to Alex properly later."
Hugo set his toast and milk down on the nightstand, then gently took Uma's hands, pulling her closer. "And you? How was your night? Everything go smoothly?" Since Uma had chosen to spend New Year's Eve at Sydney's place without him, breaking the ice there wouldn't have been easy.
Caught off guard by his question, Uma froze for a moment before answering carefully, "It went well — everything was fine." Hugo smiled faintly, relief softening his amber eyes. Seeing that he had been worried about her, Uma's heart softened too. She squeezed his hands back. "Don't worry, I'm not a kid. I know what I'm doing."
That made Hugo chuckle. "Oh, you always know what you're doing — like the time you broke into a man's house in the middle of the night."
Uma's face flushed red. She bared her teeth playfully in protest, which only made Hugo laugh harder.
"Alright, enough," Uma said, giving his hand a firm slap to stop his teasing. "Get up, wash your face, and think about what you want for lunch. I bet you didn't eat anything last night."
Hugo pouted and nodded. "I threw everything up. I'm starving now." Seeing the way he pouted made Uma laugh despite herself. But Hugo added casually, "Oh, by the way, Charlize and Alex drank a lot too. Go wake them up and see what everyone wants to eat."
At the mention of Charlize's name, Uma's smile faltered for a second. No woman liked hearing her man casually mention another woman — especially knowing he'd spent New Year's Eve with her, even if it was among a group of friends. Still, Uma reminded herself that this had been her own choice. She sighed inwardly, then gathered herself again. "Alright," she said softly. "Go freshen up. I'll wake Charlize."
...
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