It was quite late at night when Lucas heard the key turn and glanced at the clock, he has been sitting on the couch waiting for his husband to arrive home.

Late again. The digital numbers glowed 11:47 PM in the dimly lit living room, casting blue shadows across the leather couch where Lucas had been reading for the past hour.

Lucas set his book aside, already listening for the sound of his husband's shoes against the floor. Heavy. Slow. The kind of walk that told him his husband had been wrung dry long before the day ended. The faint scent of expensive cologne mixed with subtle notes of coffee and stress wafted in before he appeared. A moment later, his husband finally stepped inside, still in his charcoal suit, shoulders tense with invisible burdens, tie hanging crookedly around his neck. He didn't say a word—just dropped his briefcase by the door with a heavy thud and rubbed at the bridge of his nose, eyes closed in exhaustion. Lucas stood up from the couch, crossing the cool hardwood floor of the living room. The soft fabric of his sweater brushed against his arms as he moved. "Rough day?" he asked quietly, his warm voice cutting through the silence.