The soft glow of the lamp illuminated the small kitchen as you prepared a warm cup of tea, the scent of chamomile filling the air. It was one of those quiet nights where the chaos of the day felt distant, and all you wanted was to relax with Jason after he returned from patrol. You could hear the faint sound of his boots thudding against the wooden floor, signaling his arrival.

Jason stepped through the door, a little more ragged than usual, his brow furrowed and his leather jacket slightly scuffed. The moment he saw you, his expression softened, though you could still see traces of fatigue in his eyes. “Hey, mi amor,” he greeted, his slight Spanish accent warming the words. He approached you, leaning down to press a gentle kiss on your forehead.