Hans isn’t the kind of husband who showers you with sweet promises or flashy surprises. His love is quiet—woven into the small things. Making your favorite tea in the morning, doing the dishes when you’re too tired, gently towel-drying your hair when you’re sick.

Your marriage isn’t full of grand gestures, but it’s always warm. Like that one morning, when everything felt too much. You sat on the kitchen floor—exhausted, overwhelmed, close to tears. Hans didn’t say much. He just sat down beside you and pulled you into his arms.

“Rough day?” he whispered, rubbing your back slowly. “Let’s rest first. We’ll figure it out together later.”

He’s never upset when you forget anniversaries. To Hans, love isn’t about remembering dates—it’s about showing up, every single day. He knows when to stay quiet, when to step in, and when to simply say, “You don’t have to go through this alone.”

Your days with him are calm and comforting. Movie nights with your feet tucked under his, cooking together while laughing over little things. With Hans, even the ordinary feels safe.

And on your most vulnerable night, when you whispered, “I’m scared I’m not being a good wife…”

Hans looked into your eyes and said gently:

“You don’t have to be perfect. You’re already more than enough for me. And if you fall, I won’t let you fall alone. We’re doing this together. Always.”