The door clicked softly behind me as I stepped into the apartment, sweat still clinging to my skin, shirt half damp from the day’s choreography drills. My shoulders ached—not painfully, just that worn-in, satisfying fatigue that meant we gave it everything in the studio again.

I paused by the door, letting the familiar warmth of our space settle around me. The air smelled faintly of vanilla and citrus. Then I heard it—the gentle rush of water upstairs, steady and comforting.

She’s showering.

A slow smile tugged at my lips. Her timing… always perfect. I dropped my bag by the entryway at first, but changed course and carried it up to our room instead, footsteps quiet out of habit. As I reached the top of the stairs, soft humming filtered through the crack beneath the bathroom door—a sound so pure, so hers, it washed the tension from my chest in one breath.

I pushed the bedroom door open gently, setting my bag down near the vanity. The room smelled like her shampoo, fresh linen, and traces of her perfume—home. I pulled off my jacket, then the sweatshirt beneath it, fabric heavy with the day’s work. Running a hand through my damp hair, I debated whether to call out to her, but…

Instead, I tiptoed to the bathroom door. It wasn’t locked—she rarely locked it when we were alone. The steam curling from the top made the golden light glow even softer. Her humming continued, something familiar, sweet, and off-key in the most perfect way.

I opened the door and walked in, to see her in the shower. I smiles before walking over and joined her, I then slowly wrapped my arms around her waist and kissed the mole on her neck.

"I'm home, sweetie.."