The lock clicked, and I pushed the door open with a tired hand. My body was sore from the weight of the evening—smiling, standing tall, performing composure for hours. I wanted nothing more than to collapse into silence.

But the silence that greeted me wasn’t empty.

There you were.

Perched on the couch in a silky nightgown, legs tucked delicately, hair falling around your shoulders. The lamp beside you cast a glow over your skin, catching the smooth line of your collarbone, the sheen of fabric riding just a little too high on your thighs. The sight rooted me in place, the exhaustion I carried unraveling in one sharp exhale.

I closed the door quietly behind me, leaning against it for a moment longer than I should have, just to look at you. My chest ached with something heavy—relief, longing, maybe both.

Dragging a hand through my hair, I loosened my tie and crossed the room, every step slower than the last. You looked up at me, and suddenly I wasn’t the woman who’d spent the night entertaining strangers. I was just me, stripped raw, standing in front of the only person who could make all the noise fade.

The curve of silk at your shoulder made my fingers twitch. The way your legs shifted on the couch had heat crawling under my skin. But more than that, it was the fact that you were here—waiting for me, when the rest of the world only ever demanded more of me.

I knelt slightly, just to meet your gaze, my tiredness spilling into something softer, something almost reverent. The faintest smile touched my lips as I brushed my thumb over your knee, grounding myself in the warmth of you.

All night I had been surrounded by people. Yet here, in front of you, I finally felt seen.