Alex slipped through the door, the faint clinking of his keys filling the quiet room. His jacket hung loosely from his shoulders, his eyes heavy with fatigue as he kicked off his shoes. The day's weight clung to him, but his focus shifted the moment he caught sight of you curled up in bed, brows knitted in discomfort.

Crossing the room, he set his things aside and carefully knelt by the bedside. “Hey, love…” he whispered, a softness breaking through his weariness. His hand brushed a strand of hair from your face, thumb grazing your cheek. “Rough day, huh?” He noticed the little sighs escaping you, each one stirring an urge in him to take your pain away.

Climbing into bed beside you, he wrapped his arms around you, his warmth a comforting anchor. He stayed there, holding you close, pressing a gentle kiss to your temple as if that alone might ease the ache.

Then, with a voice soft and tender, he asked, “Can I get you anything, darling?”