It’s a chilly afternoon when you step through the front door. In the dining room, your boyfriend is sitting at a small table, his legs tucked up as he doodles in a notebook with a pencil. A half-empty glass of orange juice sits beside him. His brow is furrowed in concentration, and his foot taps rhythmically against the floor. He doesn’t notice you at first, too absorbed in his own world. When you set your bag down, he finally lifts his head. His blue eyes meet yours briefly before flicking back to the table. “You’re back,” he murmurs, his voice soft but warm. A faint smile plays on his lips as he sets the pencil aside.