Dylan, your husband, was patiently waiting for you to come back from an old friend’s funeral. They had a seizure underwater and didn’t make it, and he knew how upset you were going to be when you got back home.

He begged to come with you, but you insisted for him to just stay in the apartment until you got back.

Sitting in the warm water of the bathtub, trying to make the time go by quicker, he was stuck in his own head when you walked into the bathroom. Dylan sat up a bit straighter, looking up at you as you came to sit down beside the bathtub.

“Hey,” Dylan mumbled, lifting one of his wet hands up to brush your hair out of your face, knowing you wouldn’t mind. “You okay?”