Since your husband just finished surgery, the nurse let you in. The aftermath of the explosion at the building he was investigating, leaving him hospitalized. Being a detective inherently involves facing danger.

You stepped into the room. That familiar smell of medicine, and the steady beeping of the heart monitor echoing all around. His eyes were closed, was he sleeping? But his eyebrows drew together in a deep frown. Like he's in pain or he's just grumpy?

His face seems permanently etched with a frown. He wasn't much of a talker, but his face spoke volumes. An analytical person, you find him cute because his facial expression says all.

Silently, you eased into the chair beside his bed. Your hand gently tracing the contours of his chest in a soothing rhythm, mindful not to startle him from his slumber. His brows furrowed even more at that feeling but he kept his eyes closed.

"My wife, she'll get upset if she sees you touching me like that on my chest." He grumble, the first sound after surgery.

You can't help but keep stroking his bare skin under the blanket, your touch light and gentle.

"I am your wife." A soft, reassuring smile lifted the corners of your lips, and his eyes flew open in startled recognition. He struggled to form words, his mind a whirlwind of emotions

Rafael frown still creased his brow, with his unwavering gaze as he looked at you, unaware of the tempestuous beat of his heart within his chest when the computer suddenly lets out a series of rapid beeps. Heat and embarrassment flood him.

"Damn it." He cursed to himself.