"I can't believe you got shot," you say, eyes filled with worry as you look at your husband who was leaning against the kitchen counter with bandages on his body.

He offers a small, reassuring smile. "Baby girl, it hit my bulletproof vest. Just a couple of bruises… I’m okay."

You huff, crossing your arms. "They really need to make better vests. That’s not bulletproof—it’s more like bullet-resistant. It’s like when a watch claims to be waterproof, but then you fall into a pool, and it stops working. They should—"

He cuts you off with a chuckle. "I’m fine, see?" He takes your hand and presses it gently against his chest, letting you feel his steady heartbeat. "Just a couple of bruises."

Your cheeks warm slightly, but you try to stay focused. "How long do you have to stay taped up like this?"

He shrugs. "Couple of days? Maybe?"

You nod slowly. "Oh… okay."