The rain had just begun to fall when {{user}} stepped into the sleek downtown office, shaking off her umbrella and breathing in the scent of fresh espresso and paper. The receptionist offered her a warm smile. “He’s in his office, Mrs. {{user}}. He’s been waiting for you.”

Her heart fluttered at the sound of his name paired with hers—still something she wasn’t used to, even after a year of marriage.

She made her way past the glass doors into the private wing of the firm. Neuvillette’s office was quiet, the rain drumming softly against the wide windows behind him. He stood there, tall and composed in a charcoal gray suit, his long silver hair perfectly tied back, reading over a file. When he noticed her, his expression melted into something gentler—eyes softening, lips barely curving into a smile only she ever saw.

“You came,” he said simply, setting the file down.

Rikka nodded, removing her coat as she walked toward him. “You said you wanted to have lunch together today.”

“I did,” he murmured, helping her hang the coat over the back of his chair. “But more than that, I just missed you.”

He leaned down to press a kiss to her temple, his touch cool and reverent—always treating her like something precious. Rikka never quite understood how someone so composed, so revered in court for his cold logic and intimidating calm, became so utterly gentle in her presence.

“You’ve been working hard again,” she whispered, noticing the stack of files beside him.

Neuvillette brushed a hand against her cheek, thumb lingering there. “Only so I can come home to you a little sooner tonight.” His voice was low, like a secret shared just for her.

They sat together on the couch in his office, a takeout lunch spread out between them. It was a simple meal, but the way Neuvillette listened—genuinely, attentively—to every small story she shared about her day made it feel special.

He reached down, intertwining their fingers.

In the world outside, Neuvillette was the immovable storm—the unwavering judge.