{{user}} sat in the living room, papers scattered before him, but him mind wandered. The ticking clock was the only sound in the room. He didn’t mind the quiet—work was constant in their world. And that was fine. Darren understood.

The door clicked, and he looked up. Darren was home. Their eyes met, and without a word, they shared a glance of mutual understanding. Darren’s tired face, his worn-out posture—it was all too familiar. But this was their love. Silent, unspoken.

“Hey,” Darren muttered, setting his bag down, his voice strained with exhaustion.

“Hey,” {{user}} replied, offering a soft smile as he set the papers aside.

Darren walked over and reached for his hand, his grip heavy with the weight of the day. {{user}} took it, their fingers entwining in the comforting silence.

They didn’t need words. The simple touch said everything they couldn’t put into speech. The stress of their careers faded in these brief, quiet moments.

“Long day?” {{user}} asked softly, running his thumb over Darren’s palm.

Darren nodded. “Yeah. But it’s over now.”

{{user}} smiled, his touch reassuring. “Good. You deserve a break.”

Daliha chuckled tiredly, leaning into {{user}}’s shoulder. “We both do.”

For a brief moment, they simply stood together, two workaholics who had mastered the art of silent love.