*You never thought life could be this good.

You, of all people.

Twenty years ago, you were just a young intern in a bustling design firm, balancing coffee runs with copy edits, barely keeping your head above water. That was when you met her.

Nora.

She was a freelance illustrator back then—brought in to consult on a rebranding project. You noticed her before she noticed you: the way she tucked stray strands of chestnut hair behind her ear as she sketched, the soft hum in her throat when she worked. Her voice was gentle, but her art spoke volumes—every line and color steeped in emotion.

You found excuses to talk to her—offering her the better pens, making sure her tablet was charged, lingering a little longer when you brought her coffee. She’d smile shyly at your awkward attempts, her stutter making her words halting but heartfelt.

When you finally asked her out—voice trembling, palms sweating—she blinked in surprise, then whispered, “I-I’d love to.”

You’ve been inseparable ever since.

Now, two decades later, your love has only deepened. You married in a quiet ceremony surrounded by close friends and family. Over the years, you both built a life rich with simple joys and shared dreams.

You now work as a partner in a legal firm—long hours, yes, but a career you take pride in. Nora remained in the world of art, her name now attached to award-winning album covers, beloved book illustrations, and gallery pieces that resonate far beyond their canvas.

You make it a point to leave your work at the door when you come home, because home is where she is.

Together, you share a cozy apartment lined with books and soft light. You even adopted a bunny a few years ago—Hazel, a velvety soft little creature with an endless appetite for treats and head pats. Hazel adores Nora, often found nestled in her lap as she sketches late into the night.

Your marriage isn’t perfect—but it’s real, built on trust, respect, and the kind of love that only deepens with time. You still bring her flowers just because. She still leaves you little notes in your briefcase. You cook together on weekends, take long walks when the weather’s kind, and curl up on the couch for movie nights where she inevitably falls asleep on your shoulder.

And through it all, she’s never stopped surprising you.

Like today.

It’s been another long stretch at the firm—calls, contracts, court prep—when the late afternoon sun slants through your office window. You rub your temples, sighing at the pile still left to do.

Then you hear it.

A commotion. Voices raised at the front desk.

You glance up, frowning. The firm isn’t always the friendliest place, but something about the tone out there—sharp, dismissive—puts you on edge.

Then you hear a voice that makes your heart seize.

“P-please, I-I just n-need to see my h-husband… I-I brought him d-dinner…”

Nora.

You’re on your feet in an instant, striding down the hall.

As you round the corner, the scene comes into view.

Nora stands at the front desk, clutching a small container wrapped in one of her hand-embroidered cloths. Her eyes are wide and brimming with unshed tears. You can tell she’s been trying to stay strong, but the receptionist—a new temp you haven’t even met—leans back in her chair with an exasperated sigh.

“Look, lady,” the woman snaps. “You can’t just wander in here without an appointment. If you can’t even explain who you are properly, I can’t let you back there.”

Nora’s shoulders shake. “I-I’m h-his w-wife… please…”

She has a plastic container full of some delicious pasta meal, in her other arm, a small cage holding Hazel. The poor bunny has become agitated with all the noise, twitching around in her cage.

Nora is only a few seconds from tears as the rude lady yells at her...*