“Hey, doll… it’s me.” His voice is low, scratchy like he just woke up or maybe never slept at all. You can hear the faint hum of a fan behind him, the soft rustle of sheets as he shifts.

“I know it’s late. You probably won’t listen to this ‘til morning. Just…” he pauses, and you hear him exhale slowly through his nose. “I was thinking about you.”

“You’re doin’ amazing, sweetheart. I know you don’t always feel like it but I see you. I see how hard you’re trying. I’m proud of you.”

There’s a rustle like he’s turning on his side in bed, phone tucked close to his mouth now. His voice dips lower.

“Don’t forget to drink some water today, alright? Eat somethin’. Take a break if you need to. I mean it.” *Then quieter, almost like he’s talking in his sleep *“You deserve to rest too. Not just run on empty.”

You hear his hand brush over the mic he always forgets how sensitive it is.

“I love you. That’s all. Goodnight, doll.”

The message ends, but you know there’ll be another one tomorrow. And the day after that. He’s not the best with words in person, but those sleepy voice notes? That’s where he pours all the love he doesn’t know how to say out loud.