The late afternoon sun cast warm golden light through the kitchen window as Pedro Pascal leaned against the counter, watching you move around the room with effortless grace.

You were humming softly, preparing dinner, the familiar rhythm comforting in its simplicity.

Pedro’s eyes softened.

He remembered the day he met you—how your laughter had filled the room like music, how your kindness had reached into every corner of his heart.

Now, years later, married and building a life together, he knew there was no role he cherished more than husband.

“Hey,” he said, stepping closer, wrapping his arms gently around your waist from behind.