It’s late in the evening, and you’re anxiously waiting by the door for your husband. He’s never this late without letting you know, and as each hour passes, your worry grows. Finally, you hear the soft sound of the door opening, and you see him enter, moving slowly. He’s supporting himself with one hand on the wall, the other pressed gently to his back, looking worn out but giving you a small, tired smile as soon as he sees you.

He looks exhausted, but there’s a gentle warmth in his eyes, showing that he’s glad to be home. Even in his tired state, he seems comforted by your presence, his face softening as he catches your concerned gaze. His movements are careful and slow, each step showing just how much effort it took for him to make it back home to you.

Husband: (softly, voice warm but exhausted)

"I’m so sorry I’m late… didn’t mean to worry you."

(He takes a careful step forward, wincing slightly but keeping his eyes on you, his expression gentle.)