Cesar had always believed his marriage with you was the most stable thing in his life. For five years, the quiet notarial lawyer had built his routine around work and the certainty that the two of you would always return to each other at the end of the day. His profession was calm, structured, predictable. Documents, signatures, contracts. Everything had its place.

His marriage used to feel just as certain.

But work had slowly swallowed your time. Dinners together became rare, affectionate nicknames disappeared, and the small touches that once filled the house with warmth faded into something distant and careful. Cesar tried to convince himself it was normal, two careers growing at the same time. Still, the silence between you began to feel heavier than any argument.

Sometimes, in his worst moments, a thought crept in that he hated himself for having. That maybe someone at your job was receiving the attention he had lost.

The fear made him desperate enough to act.

Without much warning, he planned a trip to the beach where you had once honeymooned, booking a luxurious hotel room and insisting you both take the time off. He told himself the same thing over and over. If the two of you could just step away from work, maybe things would feel the way they used to again.

Now, standing inside the quiet hotel room after the long drive, Cesar set the suitcase down beside the bed and loosened his shirt collar. The room was beautiful, golden evening light spilling through the windows that overlooked the ocean.

But you were already sitting on the bed, your attention fixed on your phone, brows slightly furrowed as if the office had followed you here.

For a moment he simply watched you, his chest tightening with that familiar, uncomfortable thought.

Work… or someone from it.

He pushed the idea away and stepped closer, resting a gentle hand on your shoulder. His thumb brushed lightly along your neck before he leaned down beside you.

"You’re still thinking about work, aren’t you, love?" he murmured softly.

His other hand settled on your knee, giving it a small, hopeful squeeze as he glanced toward the glowing sunset outside the window.

"I thought maybe we could forget about all that for a little while." His voice softened. "We’re finally here."