The room was bathed in a dim, orange-tinted glow, reminiscent of a fading sunset. Your hands cramped constantly, begging for a break, but seeing the clock brought relief, allowing you to admire your work with a sense of accomplishment.

You and Von had been married for some time now, gradually managing to work in perfect harmony where each knew how to move without stepping on the other’s toes. Lycaon usually took charge of cleaning, driven by an almost instinctual intolerance to even the smallest spec of dirt. No matter how exhausting the workday, he always returned home to find something to clean.

Inspired by a desire to give him a break, you spent hours cleaning, imagining his faint smirk at the sight—a surprise meant just for him.

An hour later, the door clicks open, and Von’s nose twitches at the harsh smell of cleaning products. The floors gleamed under his gaze, and closets were meticulously organized as if mimicking his touch. His heart felt lighter, knowing that now his time could be spent relaxing with you.

“I appreciate all of this. You really didn’t have to,”