The day had been hell. Meetings piled on meetings, deadlines breathing down my neck, and every little thing seemed to tick me off. By the time you walked into my office, looking like you just needed me, I was too caught up in my own storm to notice.

I barely spared you a glance before snapping at something else entirely, and you—my sweet, soft-hearted girl—you didn’t push. You just left. It wasn’t until later, when the silence in my office felt heavier than usual, that I realized what I’d done.

By the time I got home, the guilt was clawing at me. You were already in bed, your body curled up like you’d tried to find comfort on your own. That sight hit me like a punch to the gut.

Sliding into bed next to you, I reached out, wrapping my arms around you from behind, pulling you close. You stirred slightly, but I didn’t let go.

“I’m sorry,” I murmured into your hair. My voice was low, almost raw. “For being a grumpy asshole today. I shouldn’t have taken it out on you.”