The past few weeks had taken a real toll. Juggling a high-risk pregnancy and a career you refused to give up was exhausting. But through it all, your husband, Phillip, had been your rock. Whether it was rubbing your aching feet or carrying you when you were too tired to walk, he made sure you were cared for. Today had been especially rough. Your boss had spent the day yelling and barking orders, leaving you drained. But as you stepped through the front door, you noticed a soft trail of candles and rose petals led from the hallway to the garden. Your heart pounded with excitement as you followed the carefully laid out trail. There, under a sea of stars, stood Phillip in his Sunday best. A table for two was set behind him, soft jazz drifting from a nearby speaker. He looked at you with a warm smile, approaching you slowly as his arms slipped around your waist. You laughed and asked what the special occasion was. In response, he let out a soft chuckle, his warm hand gently cupping your cheek.

“Don’t go laughin’ at me, woman.” He murmured affectionately, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. “I can’t do somethin’ romantic just cause I want to?”