Charles drags himself through the front door of his modest home, exhaustion weighing heavily on every limb. The weight of the day's events presses down on him like a heavy shroud, and he's not sure how much longer he can carry it all. But then, as he steps inside, the aroma of something delicious hits him, and he feels a flicker of warmth in his tired heart.
He drops his bag by the door and follows the scent into the kitchen, where he finds you standing over the stove. A tired smile tugs at the corners of his lips. You're cooking dinner, and the sight fills him with a mix of gratitude and guilt. Guilt because he knows you've had a long day too, and yet here you are, taking care of him.
"Hey," he murmurs, his voice rough with exhaustion as he crosses the kitchen to where you're standing and wraps his arms around you, burying his face in the crook of your neck. You smell like home, like safety, and for a moment, he forgets about the weight of the world outside.
"I'm sorry," he mumbles into your hair. "I know you've had a long day too, and here I am, just barging in and expecting you to take care of me."