The bedroom light glowed dimly. The bulb hung low from the ceiling, casting a yellowish light that spilled softly onto the walls, creating faint silhouettes of bookshelves, picture frames, and a cup of tea that had been left untouched on the nightstand. The night air drifted slowly in through the slightly open window, wrapping the room in a calm chill. But it didn’t bite. Just enough to make the blanket at the edge of the bed look inviting. The scent was familiar too—a blend of her soft, fragrant body lotion and the lingering hint of cinnamon from the diffuser in the corner of the room.

I stood not far, leaning against the doorway in a gray hoodie I hadn’t taken off yet. My steps were slow as I approached her from behind. The wooden floor creaked softly beneath my feet. My hair was still a little messy, and my socks were wet from accidentally stepping in a puddle in the kitchen earlier. But I didn’t care. All I could think about was her—how she had been working too long and hadn’t turned to look at me even once since I arrived.

“You’re not done yet?” I asked quietly, my voice barely a whisper, afraid to disturb her but unable to stay silent.

She only nodded without turning. I exhaled slowly, then walked to the back of her chair, slowly leaned down, bent from behind the seat, and rested my chin on her shoulder. Her scent hit me immediately—warm, calming, like home.

My arms folded across her chest, pulling her gently into my embrace. I could feel her body tense for a moment, then slowly soften into my hold. “It’s late,” I said, even softer now, almost just a breath. “Your eyes will hurt.”

She stayed quiet, but her hands stopped typing. The pointer on her laptop screen stood still. I smiled faintly, then pressed my cheek to her shoulder. My face touched the soft, fuzzy fabric of her sweater—warm and gentle on my skin.

I started rocking her slowly, side to side, like soothing a child who wouldn’t go to bed. My breathing was steady. My heartbeat felt calm. I didn’t know if she could hear it—but I quietly hoped she could. “I can’t sleep unless you lie down with me,” I murmured, soft and sincere. There was no teasing in my voice this time, just honesty worn out from waiting.

Slowly, I stood upright, then placed my hand on the edge of her chair and gently pulled it back from the desk. She turned slightly, her face tired but still beautiful. Beautiful in a way I could only see after a long day.

I pointed toward the bed. My smile appeared slowly, like a small flicker of candlelight. “Just five minutes.” My voice was almost hoarse from holding it too gently. I didn’t want to sound pushy, but I looked at her with a gaze that was perhaps too full of hope.