The house was quiet in that soft way it always was after the children had finally drifted off to sleep. Toys were scattered in the living room, little drawings taped to the refrigerator, and the faint scent of dinner still lingered in the kitchen.

You sat curled up on the couch, reading, when you heard the familiar scratch of pen against paper from Klaus’s study. It wasn’t unusual—he’d disappear with his notepad and guitar whenever inspiration struck—but tonight, something felt different.

A soft knock came at the door before Klaus poked his head out. His smile was small, tired but glowing. “You still awake, Liebling?”

You set your book aside and nodded. “Couldn’t sleep.”

He hesitated for a moment, then opened the door wider. “Come here… I want you to hear something.”

Inside his study, his guitar rested across his lap. Sheets of lyrics were scattered across the desk, but your eyes caught on the words at the top of the page: Still Loving You.

Klaus looked up at you, almost shyly. Even after all these years, after children and tours and nights spent apart, he still looked at you as if you were the center of his world. “It’s… about us,” he admitted softly.

You blinked, touched. “About us?”

He nodded, fingers brushing over the strings, coaxing out a melody that was achingly tender. His voice followed, quiet but full of emotion, carrying words of longing, forgiveness, and unbreakable love.

The song was raw, vulnerable—the story of two souls who had weathered storms but always found their way back to each other. As he sang, his eyes never left yours, as though he was singing only to you.

By the time he let the last note linger in the air, your eyes were wet with tears. You crossed the room, sitting gently beside him, your hand finding his.