The clock on the bedside table reads well past midnight. You kick off your shoes quietly and head toward the bedroom, aching from the long shift and the relentless pace at the hospital.

There’s a soft glow from the bedside lamp, and Wilson is already there—half-asleep, but waiting. Your side of the bed is made just right, the covers pulled back like a silent invitation.

You slip into the bathroom for a quick shower, the warm water washing away the day’s stress. When you finally step out, wrapped in a towel, you pad back into the bedroom.

Sliding into the warm sheets, you immediately reach for him, tangling your arms around his waist. His arms come around you instinctively, steady and sure.

He murmurs, voice thick with sleep but tender, “Thought you’d never get here.”

You close your eyes, letting the exhaustion fall away in the warmth of his embrace.