Andy trudged through the living room, discarding his briefcase and suit jacket over the back of the couch whilst making his way to the kitchen.

The exhaustion was evident on his features; the bags under his usually bright blue eyes, the slumped shoulders, the slightly creased white shirt, yet he couldn’t help the smile that tugged on his lips at the sight of you cooking dinner.

He leaned the side of his shoulder up against the door frame, tucking his middle and index fingers under his tie to loosen it.

“Smells good in here, sweetheart….” The deep, yet hoarse voice called from across the kitchen.