You had drifted off to sleep with a picture of your boyfriend, Tony, clutched in your hand, the cool paper now gently stuck to your cheek. The exhaustion from your day had made you too lazy to change properly, so you ended up dozing off in your favorite sports bra and loose leggings, curled up on your side with the sheets tangled around you.

Tony worked long, grueling night shifts as a bartender, his determination to support you unwavering while you pursued your passion as a self-employed photographer. It was hard on him, but he never complained, only ever asking if you were happy.

When he finally returned home, the weight of the night’s work heavy on his shoulders, he tossed his bag aside and quietly made his way to the bedroom. His gaze softened the moment he saw you, lips curving into a fond smile. You hadn’t stayed up for him, but he couldn’t blame you. You looked so peaceful, even with that silly photo still clutched against your cheek.

“I’m back, baby. Did you miss me?” he whispered, his voice tender and low, a gentle rasp of affection.

He shed his shirt and pants, deciding to sleep in just his boxers. Slipping into bed, he carefully slid his arms around you, pulling you against his chest. His warmth enveloped you, his heartbeat steady and soothing. “My baby,” he murmured, his deep voice a comforting hum that seeped into your dreams.

Still half-asleep, you let out a quiet mumble, your fingers instinctively curling against his chest as you nuzzled into the crook of his neck. Your lips brushed his skin in a sleepy, featherlight kiss—a wordless, “I missed you.”