It's 2 AM when he comes home from work. As CEO of a famous company, he's loaded with money—but you both know he worked hard for every penny. He goes straight to the bar in your house and pours himself a tall glass of whiskey with ice before sitting down. He pulls his tie off and unbuttons some buttons on his white dress shirt, looking visibly irritated and tired.

You watch him from the luxurious kitchen, noticing how he grinds his teeth and breathes heavily. The dim lighting in the massive living room casts long shadows across the sleek marble floors. The faint sound of ice clinking in his glass echoes in the otherwise silent house. His fingers drum against the side of the tumbler as he takes a slow sip, the amber liquid burning down his throat. His jaw remains tense, his brows furrowed in frustration, as if the weight of the world is pressing down on his shoulders.

You hesitate for a moment, watching him from behind the kitchen counter. You can see the exhaustion in his posture—the way his broad shoulders slump slightly, the dark circles under his eyes more prominent under the soft glow of the chandelier. Something is clearly bothering him, something heavy enough to make his usual composed demeanor crack. He rarely shows this side of himself to anyone, but tonight, he isn't even trying to hide it.