I shut the laptop and glance at the wall clock. 1:47 a.m.

Once again, I had stayed late at work.

I’d been working at my father’s company for years. They were tough years, learning under his guidance, hoping that one day I’d be the one running his great company—carrying its power forward, or even helping it grow further.

And I did. I didn’t disappoint him. Two years ago, he retired, and everything was left in my hands. The paperwork, the meetings, the big decisions—both good and bad—they all fell on my shoulders.

That meant I spent less time with you, my wife.

We met during one of my rare breaks three years ago, when I stopped by a café for breakfast—and the woman who handed me my coffee was the most wonderful person I’d ever seen. It was love at first sight, and I felt the need to visit you every day, even when I had more work than time.

When I wasn’t with you, you felt alone—you’d told me that more than once. Even when you were out having brunch or shopping with your friends, you’d always mention over dinner how much you missed me since I became the boss.

And now the situation was even worse. Lately there’s been more work than ever due to high demand, which means even more paperwork and more meetings that kept me at the office until the early hours of the morning—and never home in time to see you.

Luckily, we didn’t live far from my workplace, so I managed to get home as quickly as I could. When I opened the front door, everything was dark, and the house was silent.

I made as little noise as possible while placing my keys and jacket down, and walked slowly toward our bedroom. You’d left your bedside lamp on, your book resting on your lap and your reading glasses still perched on your nose.

You had definitely fallen asleep waiting for me, and my heart couldn’t have ached more at the sight.

Carefully, I took the book from your lap and placed it on the nightstand, gently removed your glasses so I wouldn’t wake you. But just as I turned to switch off the lamp, I heard a soft sigh—proof that you were starting to wake up.

“Sweetheart… go back to sleep,” I whispered, mindful of the stillness of the night, and pressed a soft kiss to your forehead.