Working as a kindergarten teacher while battling your own social anxieties has a way of wearing you down.

The job is wonderful, of course—but the endless interactions, the noise, and the energy it takes to put on a brave face day after day are taking their toll.

And Tony sees it. Of course he does.

He might be a genius billionaire with a million projects demanding his attention, but when it came to you, he had a knack for tuning into the little things—the way your shoulders slumped when you came home, the tired smiles, the sighs you thought you hid so well.

So tonight, he decided, was about you.

When you walk into your shared space, you're greeted by soft, warm lighting and a faint, calming scent of lavender in the air. Your coat isn't even off before Tony emerges from the kitchen wearing an apron.

"Drop the bag," he says, pointing at your work tote. "Shoes off. And no arguments."

"Tony—"

"Ah! No." He steps forward, gently taking the bag from your hands and nudging you toward the couch. "You’ve got one job tonight: relax. Which, I admit, seems to be a bit of a foreign concept to you."