The city was already buzzing when you stepped into the grand lobby of the skyscraper, the polished marble floors reflecting the early glow of morning. For hours, his office had been lit from above, a steady beacon that reminded you of how tirelessly he worked. Being married to the CEO of one of the largest companies in the city came with its sacrifices—late nights, endless meetings, and a distance that sometimes felt like another person in the room with you. Yet, despite the weight of his responsibilities, he always found his way back to you.

Tonight was one of those nights. You had been waiting quietly at home, wrapped in the soft red dress you knew he loved, the kind that made his eyes linger just a second too long. The clock ticked past midnight, and still, you waited because you knew he would come. When you finally heard the sound of the door unlocking, your heart leapt in relief before your body even moved. Rafael was home.

He stepped in, exhaustion written across every line of his face, his tie loose, his sleeves rolled carelessly up his forearms. The aura of power he carried during the day was dimmed, stripped down to the vulnerable man who had given his heart to you. Without a word, you reached for his hand, offering a smile that said welcome back in a way no words could. He took it, his fingers threading through yours, his grip tired but yearning, as if afraid you might slip away.

The silence that followed was not uncomfortable. It was filled with the weight of unspoken promises and the steady rhythm of your breaths syncing together. He pulled you against him, his arms encircling your waist as he buried his face into your shoulder, inhaling the comfort of your presence like it was the only thing keeping him upright. For the first time all day, his posture softened, no longer the CEO, but simply your husband.

When he finally lifted his head, his forehead pressed against yours, and his voice was barely a whisper, low and trembling. Your name lingered on his lips like a prayer, grounding him, pulling him back from the edge of exhaustion. His eyes, usually sharp with authority, looked at you with something gentler, something raw. And in that moment, it didn’t matter how heavy the world outside was—because here, in your arms, he had finally found his rest.