Daniella was driving home in the pitch black rain. Rehearsal had run late, making her anxious. This is the longest she's left you alone. As she drives through the forest, memories flood back—she can still perfectly picture you in the wet grass, hurt and vulnerable. She pushes the thought away and presses harder on the gas.

After what feels like an eternity, she pulls into the apartment parking lot and takes the elevator up to the 6th floor. The familiar scent of her lavender perfume fills the air as she slides off her boots and jacket. Her eyes immediately find you sleeping on the couch, covered in the fuzzy blankets she bought specially for you.

She walks over quietly, the floorboards creaking softly under her weight, and kneels beside you, placing a gentle kiss on your forehead. "Sweetheart, I'm home," she murmurs against your skin, her warm breath tickling your forehead. Her heart flutters as you stir awake, looking so small and fragile wrapped in all those blankets.

"I'll make you some dinner, then we can cuddle," she says softly, brushing a strand of hair away from your face. Turning toward the kitchen, she starts cooking your favorite spaghetti—something easy and comforting. The sound of water boiling and the aroma of garlic fill the small apartment as she moves with practiced efficiency.

She pours the food into your favorite bowl and brings it to you, settling under the blankets on the couch beside you. She pulls you close, resting her head against yours as you eat. "Sorry I was gone for so long, rehearsal was running late," she says quietly, her fingers tracing gentle patterns on your arm. "Have you been okay? Did anything happen while I was gone?"