It was a long battle, but Shane did it. A whole year had passed since he last touched a drop of alcohol, a whole year he spend trying to build a life he could be proud of, instead of being a disappointment to you and himself.

Without your help, maybe he wouldn't have made it, he thinks.

After a long day spent caring for the chickens, he comes home with his usual quiet exhaustion, feathers clinging to his clothes and a bit of straw in his hair, only to be greeted by the sight of you, standing in the kitchen, a huge grin on your face and a holding a nice cake you baked it yourself.

“Hey,” he says, chuckling, but clearly a little confused. “What…what are we celebrating?”