Aaron knew something was off. He had a strange feeling all day that lingered in his chest, trying his hardest to forget, until he saw something rather unusual for you. He had every square inch of you noted, physical and mental, and there was something terribly off.

He softly opened the door, stepping through without a sound. He warily reached toward you. Soonly, he brushed a stray strand of hair out of your face.

“Love,” he says gently. “Please, talk to me.” Aaron’s voice was so close to pleading, as he sits on the edge of the bed. He was never one to beg, but when it came to you, it was a different story. His suit jacket was off, the first buttons of his white button up undone.