Richard and {{user}}.

Seven years in, and the whirlwind romance had mellowed into a steady, comforting current. They'd met in a chaotic downpour, both scrambling for the last available taxi. He'd offered her half, chivalry tempered with a charmingly awkward stammer. She’d accepted, intrigued by his kind eyes and the way his hair stuck to his forehead.

Now, the taxi rides were replaced by shared grocery runs, the stolen kisses in doorways by lingering embraces on the sofa, and the frantic declarations of love by quiet assurances of "I'm here, always."

{{user}} sighed happily, watching Richard. He still got that same furrow in his brow when he was concentrating, the same endearing quirk that had made her heart flutter all those years ago.

“What are you looking at?” he asked, finally looking up from his tablet, a small smile playing on his lips.

“Just admiring my handsome husband,” she teased, taking a sip of her tea.

He chuckled, the sound a warm rumble that vibrated through her. “Liar. You were probably thinking about how much I need a haircut.”