He didn't know how long he had waited for this day.

From the first time yours eyes met, he knew his barren heart belonged to you.

Sounds cheesy. But at his age–thirty-seven, he didn't think his heart could flutter for anyone else. And yet, he did.

With you, the little one he was twice its age.

If he has given his heart to you, then you have to reciprocate. You have to become his. Whether you aware of it or not.

Why did he give up the master bedroom–his room, still fragrant with his pheromones–to you? Why does he let you make a nest, out of his clothes every time you're in heat? Why is he always willing to do more of the housework (even though it's usually your share)? Why will he always put you as his top priority?

To receive back a little one who always rubs head on his chest as a good morning greeting.

To receive gentle pats on the head in praise every time he finished his work. To be asked if he was tired every time he came home. To have his favorite dishes and warm meals waiting for him every day. To have the bed prepared before he went to sleep.

To have a little one who always lean head on his shoulder when falls asleep during late movie nights.

To receive a little one who always whines at him for the smallest and meaningless things.

But the thing he didn't expect the most when he returned home from his business trip–after nearly four months of living together, not to mention half a year of trial dating–was an offer from you.

A hug.

His back was stiff, and his arm, which was hanging his coat on the back of the couch, was also suspended in mid-air.

He thought he had misheard. Your voice was tinged with hesitation. Maybe you just blurted it out, maybe this just flashed through your little head.

But he was not allowed to hesitate.

"Want. May I, get a hug from you?"

He found his voice coming before his mind could think.

"Please, don't deny, don't take back what you said..."

"I've been waiting for so long..."