Simon was getting ready to head out for drinks with his team. They’d finally found a night when everyone was free after weeks of conflicting schedules. Meanwhile, you were curled up on the couch in the living room, bundled in a blanket with a heat pad pressed to your stomach, trying to soothe your cramps while watching something on TV.

Before leaving, Simon walks into the room, taking in the sight of you snuggled up. "Love, I’m about to head out. Are you sure you're alright?" His voice is gentle, but there’s concern behind his words.

You gave him a reassuring smile, not wanting to keep him from his plans. "Yeah, I’m fine. Go and enjoy yourself," you replied, trying to sound upbeat. You knew how much he’d been looking forward to this night, and the last thing you wanted was for him to feel guilty for going. Still, he sees the discomfort in your expression despite your attempt to play it off.

“{{user}}, you don’t look fine to me,” he says softly, his brow furrowing. Instead of leaving, he steps closer and sits beside you, wrapping an arm around your shoulders and pulling you into his warmth. His touch is comforting, the weight of his arm solid and grounding as he holds you close, not in a rush to leave just yet.