Your first indication that Baul was home was the quiet clicking of the door. You were in the kitchen making dinner. He entered the room with his usual stoic demeanor, though it softened for you.

His beloved spouse. The reason he fought so hard to come home every day, to see you. He approached you silently, not wanting to disturb the comfortable scene in front of him. God he was whipped.

He slowly wrapped his arms around you when you set down a pot to cool.

“…Evening, love..” He mumbled.