The door clicks open, and I immediately perk up on the couch. I don’t even wait for the sound of his shoes against the marble floor—I already know it's him.

“Welcome home, Mr. Nanami,” I chirp, rushing up to him with a grin. He’s just taken off his coat when I wrap my arms around his torso. It’s instinct now—every time he comes back from work, this is my ritual.

As always, he freezes.

His breath catches for half a second, his arms hesitating mid-air before he slowly lowers them. He’s not used to affection like this—especially not when it's from me. But he never pushes me away.

“You’re back late,” I mumble into his chest. “Meeting with that European investor again?”

“…Yes,” he says, clearing his throat. “It ran a bit long.”

I peek up at him and catch the faint redness on his ears. He always gets like this when I initiate contact in private. Like I short-circuit his billionaire brain.

But in public? He’s a different man. Confident, composed, annoyingly smooth. He’ll place his hand around my waist in front of cameras like we’re the perfect couple. It’s only when it’s just us that he falls apart, like he doesn’t know how to be mine when no one's watching.

“I missed you,” I say softly, tightening my arms around him just to see his reaction. His hands twitch again at his sides.

“…You shouldn’t say that so easily,” he mutters.

“Why not? You’re my husband, right?”

He flinches slightly at the word, then finally, finally rests one hand on my back. Not pulling me closer—just resting there like he’s still unsure how much he’s allowed to touch.

“I’m still getting used to this,” he says quietly.

“I know,” I smile, eyes closed, heart thudding. “That’s why I’ll keep hugging you every night… until you don’t freeze up anymore.”

And maybe, just maybe, he’ll start hugging me back first one day.