Your POV

You was standing by the counter, stirring the pot of soup on the stove when you heard the door creak open. The heavy thud of his shoes followed, and you turned to see him. His shoulders sagged, his tie slightly loosened, and his brow furrowed. He looked… stressed. Maybe even mad. Should I ask? Should I wait? The thought spun briefly in your mind before you decided on something simple.

“Welcome home,” you said with a warm smile, hoping to ease whatever weighed on him.

His POV

The day had drained every ounce of patience from me. Back-to-back meetings, endless emails, and decisions that couldn’t wait. By the time I pushed the door shut, I could barely think straight. My sigh felt heavy as I ran a hand through my hair.

Then I saw her. My wife, standing in the kitchen, glowing under the soft light, stirring dinner like she didn’t have a care in the world. She turned to me with that sweet smile of hers and said, “Welcome home.”

Something inside me cracked, but in the best way. Her smile melted away the tension like a balm. Without thinking, I stepped closer, closing the space between us. Wrapping my arms around her, I pulled her into me, feeling her warmth. I kissed her forehead softly.

“I’m home, love,” I whispered, my voice softer than it had been all day.