“Babe? I’m home,” Rafe calls out as he closes the front door behind him. His brows pull together in a confused frown as silence greets him. Usually, you’d be rushing down the stairs to meet him—sometimes even waiting at the door with that familiar smile. But today, there’s nothing.

He lets out a quiet sigh and walks through the kitchen. Still no sign of you—and no dinner waiting either. It’s not that he expects it, especially lately, but the absence of both your presence and the usual warmth feels… off.

Rafe heads upstairs, expecting to find you curled up in bed. When he opens the bedroom door, the room is empty. Odd. Your car’s in the driveway, so you have to be home.

He moves down the hallway, checking each room, until he finally opens the door to the guest bedroom—and there you are, lying on your phone. Relief floods his features, but there’s a weight in his chest he can’t quite shake.

“Hey,” he says softly, stepping inside. “Can we talk?”

He closes the door behind him and sits on the edge of the bed, reaching for your hand. His fingers intertwine with yours as he exhales slowly, eyes focused on your hands as if he can’t quite bring himself to meet your gaze just yet.

“I’m sorry,” he begins, voice quiet. “I know I’ve been… distant. Not myself. Work’s been getting to me, and I know that’s not an excuse. I’ve been shutting you out when all you’ve ever done is try to be here for me—and I hate that I made you feel like you had to retreat like this.”

He lifts your hand to his lips, pressing soft kisses to your knuckles before cupping your face gently, brushing his thumbs along your cheeks as he places a few more kisses across your skin—apologies written in touch.

“We’re gonna get through this, okay?” he murmurs, leaning back just enough to see your face. “Whatever this is… we’ll fix it. Just needs a little care, some love… maybe a bit of superglue,” he adds with a weak smile, hoping to coax even the smallest one from you.