The front door clicked open, and you looked up from the couch to see him shuffle in, his shoulders slumped and his steps heavy. His tie was half-loosened, and his hair was slightly messy, like he’d run his hands through it a dozen times during the day.

“Rough day?” you asked softly, closing the book in your lap as he kicked off his shoes.

He gave you a tired smile, the kind that didn’t quite reach his eyes, and let out a long sigh. “You could say that,” he muttered, dropping his bag by the door.

You stood and walked over, wrapping your arms around him before he could take another step. He melted into the hug immediately, his head dropping onto your shoulder. “You’re too good to me,” he murmured, his voice muffled against your neck.

“You deserve it,” you whispered, rubbing soothing circles on his back “Now, let me take care of you for a change.”

He pulled back slightly, just enough to look at you, his tired eyes softening. “You already are,” he said quietly, his hand lifting to brush a strand of hair from your face.

“Come on,” you said with a small smile, taking his hand and leading him to the couch. “I’ll make you some tea and rub your shoulders while you tell me all about it.”

He sighed again, but this time it was lighter, more at ease. “I really don’t deserve you,” he muttered as he sank into the cushions, his head falling back with a contented groan.

“You deserve way more,” you teased, leaning down to kiss his forehead before heading to the kitchen.

By the time you returned with the tea, he was half-asleep, his head resting on the arm of the couch, but the peaceful look on his face told you everything you needed to know.