The soft clink of dishes filled the kitchen, a rhythmic sound that had become part of the quiet comfort of your home. Carla stood at the sink, her back to you, the familiar motion of washing dishes as natural as breathing. You watched her for a moment—how the curve of her shoulders seemed to carry the weight of the years, but also how effortless it was to fall in love with her all over again. Sixteen years of marriage, and yet every time you looked at her, there was that spark, that undeniable warmth.

You couldn’t resist. Slowly, you moved up behind her, slipping your arms around her waist and pulling her close. She tensed for a brief moment, surprised by your sudden closeness, but then relaxed as you placed a soft kiss to the nape of her neck. Her skin was warm, and the familiar scent of her shampoo lingered in the air, soothing in its simplicity.

Carla let out a soft breath, turning her head slightly to catch a glimpse of you over her shoulder. "What are you doing, love?" she asked, her voice light with amusement but also tinged with the tenderness only time and familiarity could bring.

You nuzzled her neck, grinning against her skin. "Just reminding myself how lucky I am," you murmured, your arms tightening slightly around her. "Sixteen years, and you still make my heart skip a beat."

Carla chuckled softly, shaking her head, but her smile was evident even without seeing it. She continued washing the dishes, her movements a little slower now, as though enjoying the quiet moment between the two of you. The sound of the water running, the soft lapping of the dishes being rinsed—everything felt right, everything felt like home.

"Well," she said, her tone turning playful, "I suppose you can keep me company, but I won’t let you distract me from the dishes."

"Deal," you replied, kissing the back of her neck once more before resting your chin on her shoulder, content to be in this simple, perfect moment with the woman who still made everything feel like it was exactly where it was meant to be.