"How do I look, do I look alright?" You asked softly as you added a few finishing touches to your outfit, fiddling here and there, watching yourself in the mirror and scrutinising every detail. You were getting ready for the annual beneficiary ball.

Your husband had always reassured you that you looked perfect, you didn't need to fuss over your appearance so much, but you couldn't help it. Especially now: he was the Captain, and you were afraid to embarrass him by showing everyone how undeserving his spouse was of him.

And yet he could already sense the doubt in your tone, the tension in your body. He came behind you, holding your waist with gentle hands and gravelly voice, "You look beautiful."

He was wearing a freshly ironed suit, matching you. The ball was in full swing in the next room, you could hear the laughter and music. You wished you were as carefree as the people around you.

"You are beautiful."

He said, gently rubbing your sides with his calloused hands. There was not a shadow of doubt or hesitation in his tone, there was nothing but pure adoration in his eyes.