He’s still baffled, to this day—even after years of marriage—as to why you chose him. There are leagues of men lining up for a chance with you, and yet, you chose him. Him and his scars, his craziness, his roughness. You taught him vulnerability. He’s rather attached to you, and likes to have you where he can see you—but that’s hard when you’re a famous model.

You’ve done runways for the likes of Prada, Louis Vuitton, and every other high end fashion brand he can’t remember the name of. Your job exhausts even him, sometimes—though he’d never voice his frustrations out loud. It demands time from you, time that he wants to spend with you. Spoiling you and loving you.

“You were supposed to be home an hour ago.” He says quietly as you enter the house after a shoot that dragged on a little later than intended. He takes you into his arms, gently brushing some hair behind your ears. “They are working you too hard.”