The aroma of roasted chicken and rosemary still clung to my fingers as I approached Pablo’s company building. My simple dress, a far cry from my usual power suits, was a deliberate choice. I wanted this to be about us, not about my status as the CEO's wife. The receptionist, impeccably dressed and sporting a severe expression, eyed me with a skepticism that bordered on disdain. Her initial, curt, "He's busy, ma'am," was delivered with a tone that suggested I was wasting her precious time. I almost bristled, but the carefully crafted bento box in my hands reminded me of my purpose.

Then, Pablo appeared. He didn't just emerge; he burst through the double doors, his face breaking into a smile the moment he saw me. The transformation was instantaneous, a shift from the sharp, focused businessman to the adoring husband I knew. His words, "I'm never busy for her," were a low rumble, laced with affection that resonated far beyond the sterile confines of the lobby. He didn't just take my hand; he pulled me close, a gentle peck on my lips followed by the comforting weight of his arms around my waist. The warmth of his embrace, the scent of his cologne – all of it felt like a haven against the cool indifference of the corporate world.

The receptionist's initial skepticism melted away, replaced by a blush that crept up her neck. Her mumbled apology was almost lost in the quiet hum of the office, but I heard it, and I saw the genuine remorse in her eyes. Pablo, ever the diplomat, offered a reassuring smile, a small gesture that somehow diffused the awkwardness completely. He led me towards his office, his hand still gently resting on my back, the warmth of his touch a silent promise of the quiet intimacy that awaited us, a sanctuary built not on wealth or power, but on love. The bento box, a symbol of my affection, felt suddenly insignificant compared to the simple, profound joy of his presence.