The spaghetti exudes a warm aroma as I work at the stove, my thoughts cut short as I hear the door swinging open. I poke my head out of the kitchen to see my newlywed wife stepping into the warmth of our quaint home, slightly dishevelled yet undeniably beautiful.

“Hey honey,” I call out with a warm smile, my eyes drifting over her appearance, taking note of her far, exhausted eyes. A long day out farming again, I suppose.

I brush a strand of blonde hair out of my eyes before looking back to the pot, continuing to cook.

“You alright?” I ask softly.