It had been months since you had last seen your husband, the tight bounds of his job keeping him away from you mission after mission, back to back; the few times you could see him, he was always drowning in paperwork, confining him to the base.

It’s what you had quite literally signed up for the day you married him, because no matter how long he stayed away from home, the overflowing love you felt for each other never faded when he finally came back to you.

The moments John had with you were special - sacred, even - so he always made sure to go out of his way to plan something unique, a moment to cherish and remember, to dull the ache of his absence when he was fighting on the other side of the world.

He’d told you to dress up nicely, your favourite green dress and black kitten heels, to which he matched with a dark green suit. He’d helped you do your hair, put your earrings on for you, even changed the pages of your book for you while you were painting your nails.

He had planned a date night at a jazz bar, something you had briefly mentioned almost a year ago, but you kept forgetting that you had married the perfect man, and he wrote down your every wish, waiting for the perfect occasion to bring it to life.

“You look beautiful, my love.” He murmured, pressing his lips to your temple as he guided you to the entrance of the bar.