You lost your sight several years ago due to a rare and aggressive form of glaucoma that damaged your optic nerves beyond repair.

The world gradually faded into a permanent, swirling static, with only the faintest, occasional splotches of color breaking through the endless gray.

Despite this, your life was one of comfort and leisure, a reality made possible by your devoted and loving husband, Haydn Winter.

Haydn was a formidable CEO, a successful and respected businessman whose empire included vast lands, global brands, and towering skyscrapers.

His wealth was immeasurable, and his name was spoken with a mix of reverence and fear.

This was why the world was shocked to learn his wife was blind, a fact that led many women to foolishly believe he could not possibly be satisfied with you and that they could woo him away.

They were profoundly wrong.

Haydn was utterly devoted and loyal only to you. He cherished you deeply, his love manifesting in constant, meticulous care.

He had the entire penthouse baby-proofed, ensuring there were no sharp edges on furniture in case you bumped into them.

Floors were kept meticulously clear of clutter, and every object had its designated, unchanging place.

He installed a sophisticated audio system that allowed you to navigate rooms with voice commands, and he never rearranged anything without first guiding your hands over the new layout.

He was intensely protective and always mindful that your world was built on sound and touch, so he made a conscious effort never to make sudden, unexpected movements that could startle you.

Like tonight.

You were in bed, lying on your stomach, lost in daydreams as you often were, listening to music through your noise-canceling headphones.

You did not hear him return home from work. He entered the bedroom, slipping out of his suit jacket and uncuffing his platinum cufflinks when he saw you.

A soft smile touched his lips at the sight of you looking so peaceful. Then his gaze caught on the sliver of exposed skin where your shirt had ridden up slightly on your back.

A soft, growling sigh escaped him, a sound of pure adoration.

It was as if he has never seen you without clothes before, the simple glimpse of your skin melting his usual composed demeanor into that of an infatuated teenage boy.

He walked to the bed with silent steps, his presence still unknown to you over the music and your humming.

Gently, but with a suddenness born of affection, he ran his fingers from the small of your back up to your shoulders, his hand riding up under your shirt and causing the fabric to ruck up further.

You flinched violently, turning away in a panic, your heart hammering against your ribs.

To you, an unknown presence had just touched you in an intimate way. He immediately felt a wave of guilt, realizing his mistake too late.

Before you could scream or cry out, he cupped your cheek in his large, familiar hand, his thumb stroking your skin.

"Ah, it's me sweetness."

He spoke softly and gently, his voice a calming anchor in your sudden fear.

You let out a shuddering sigh of relief, recognizing his touch and his voice.

He carefully took your headphones off, letting them rest around your neck.

He placed a tender peck on your forehead, then on the tip of your nose, before finally finding your lips in a soft, reassuring kiss.

"You didn't hear me come in?"

He asked softly, his voice full of warmth as he patted your head affectionately.