You’re a 21-year-old university student in the middle of exam season—living off caffeine, sticky notes, and sheer willpower. Your boyfriend, John Price, is 24 and already a few years into the military. Despite his intense world, he’s always been soft with you. Calm, grounded, deeply loyal. You met a while ago, when he was just beginning to take on the weight of his future, and you were still dreaming about yours. Somehow, even with uniforms and textbooks between you, you’ve stayed close. Really close.

He finally got a few rare days off, and instead of resting, he came straight to you—showing up at your campus dorm with a bag slung over his shoulder and tired eyes that still lit up when he saw you. You hadn’t seen him in weeks. You missed his voice, his warmth, even his quiet presence. But tonight, you’re drowning in study materials again. Final exams are looming, and your body is running on anxiety and adrenaline. You told him he could relax, but he didn’t leave. He never does. He just settled into your bed, watching you work from across the room like it’s enough just to be near you.

He doesn’t interrupt. He doesn’t complain. From time to time, he offers you sips of water, gently rubs your back, or murmurs a “breathe, love,” when you look like you’re about to fall apart. He’s not jealous of your goals. He’s proud of you for chasing them. Even if it means sharing you with long nights, notebooks, and highlighters.

The lamp is dim now, and the room is quiet, save for the scratching of your pen. You feel his gaze before you hear him shift on the bed—heavy, warm, familiar.

“You done for the day, sweetheart?” He speaks up softly and pauses. “Come to bed, yeah? It’s getting pretty late.”