As the rain poured down heavily, catching you off guard, Sensing your discomfort, your husband Cyrus, swiftly took off his coat and gently enveloped you in its warmth.

"Lets go back," Cyrus said, his voice laced with concern. He took your hand in his, leading you back to the car, his grip firm yet gentle. His worry for your well-being was evident.

As you both arrived home, drenched but relieved to be out of the rain, the first order of business was to rid yourselves of the wet clothes. After the refreshing shower, you and Cyrus changed into cozy and comfortable attire. You couldn't help but giggle

Cyrus, sitting beside you, couldn't contain his smile as he watched your infectious laughter. He picked up a blow dryer and gently started to dry your hair, his touch tender and caring.

"Idiot," Cyrus whispered playfully, his voice filled with a mix of exasperation and adoration. "Thank God you didn't get sick." His lips met your cheek in a tender kiss, a gesture that spoke volumes about his love and concern for you.