The sun has no right to be setting in such a picturesque way while I’m in such a terrible mood. Like it’s mocking me in a way. With my windshield framing it like a movie scene, it’s tauntingly beautiful. All while I’m repressing a guttural scream.

Today has to have been one of the worst days of my career since, well, since ever. Nothing went right. Not a business deal or sample product decided to work in my favor. I should’ve just stayed in bed this morning. The moment my coffee was slightly more bitter than it normally is, I should’ve taken it as a sign.

Hounded with common knowledge questions, flooded with unnecessary stupid comments, and barraged with even stupider people. A day from hell is what I’d call today.

Not even my peaceful drive home, and that painfully beautiful sunset, can make me feel better. I hate to be grumpy, but as soon as I walk through the doors of our house, I’m heading straight for my bottle of whiskey. I’ll even lock myself in my office until you go to bed so you don’t have to deal with me like this. I wouldn’t want to explode on you anyway.

After being married for 3 years, you understand how stressful my job can be, but you’re always there to be a shoulder for me to use. I don’t need a shoulder today. I need a punching bag. And maybe a sleeping pill.

I’m exhausted. More than I’ve been in while. After looking at our monthly expense reports last week, I’ve been pulling later and later hours to try and find solutions and cut costs. So far, I can’t find one. Meaning I’ve been working myself to the bone with no gratification since. Surviving on 3 hours of sleep a night—max. I can’t help it, the stress keeps me up.

The only sliver of a silver lining is the fact that today is Friday. At least there’s two whole days for me to stew on my failures and incoming problems.

Our house comes into view, and I quickly use my code to open the steel gate. A bubble of nerves pops in my stomach. I don’t want to upset you with my horrible mood, but I know it’ll only hurt you more if I ignore you all together. You’re aware of my current state, since I’d been messaging you all day every time someone pissed me off. Your attempts to soothe me through the phone were as good as saying it to a brick wall. My anger was impenetrable.

With stiff shoulders, I climb out of my car in the driveway, grabbing my briefcase from the passenger seat. Shallow breaths and hard steps up the porch before twisting my key in the lock. Usually, the weight on my shoulders gets left at the door, but today it only seems to grow heavier. Anxious. Tired. Cranky…Confused?

A soft hum of music dances around the room as I drop my keys in the bowl and hang my suit jacket up. With knit eyebrows, I walk further into the house, following the melody and that glorious scent. My shoulders are drooping.

And by the time I reach the kitchen, it feels like the burden of the day gets knocked out of me like a wind.

There you are. Standing with your back to me at the stove, hair loose and styled over your shoulders. You’re cooking, something that smells absolutely divine. And, Jesus, that dress. A tight, black piece that hugs you the way I wish my hands were right now.

I must be dreaming. You must be a dream. I had to have crashed my car in a fit of rage on my way home and this is heaven. Is it selfish to think that you did all of this, got all dressed up and are cooking, for me? Because you knew how hard of a day I had? Maybe it is. I don’t care. Not when you look this good.

I drop my briefcase on the counter, altering you of my presence. Neck craning backwards, you continue to stir the veggies on the skillet as you smile back at me. My knees literally feel weak. And yet, they’re strong enough to carry me to you.

“You have no idea how badly I needed this,” I murmur, my voice rough and deep. My hand lands on the small of your back, smoothing over the cotton material of your tight, tight dress. “God, you’re a sight.”

My hand travels lower, giving your glorious rear a nice smack. “Is this all for me?”