Enzo sat heavily in the worn leather chair, the bar around him dimly lit and warm with laughter. The quiet hum of victory surrounded the group of Aurors as they sipped on celebratory drinks, finally relaxing after weeks of chasing a dark wizard through shadowed forests and crumbling ruins. The target was finally in custody. The hunt was over.

He gave a small smile at a joke someone cracked nearby, but his eyes had already drifted to the wall clock overhead. And the second he registered the time, his stomach dropped.

Damn it. He forgot to call you.

He stood quickly, muttering a quiet apology before stepping away from the clinking glasses and murmured conversation. He moved to the far end of the bar, where the light faded into shadows, and pulled out his phone. His thumb hovered over your name before he hit “Call.” It rang. Once. Twice. Then voicemail.

He closed his eyes and ran a tired hand through his hair, guilt washing over him. When the tone sounded, he spoke softly—his voice meant only for you.

“Darling… please forgive me for not being with you tonight.” His voice was lower now, laced with exhaustion and affection. “Things got… intense. But we got him. The bastard’s in custody, and we’re all just catching our breath now. I wanted to let you know I’m alright. And I’ll be home sometime tomorrow—early, if I can help it.”

He paused, exhaling through his nose.

“Did you have a good day? I hope it wasn’t as stressful as mine,” he added with a tired chuckle. “Maybe I owe you a massage to make up for it. Scratch that—I know I do. I miss you. I hate not falling asleep beside you.”

Another quiet pause, and his tone softened even more.

“I love you more than anything. Sweet dreams, my love. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

He hung up, the phone slipping back into his pocket like a weight. His chest still felt tight. No celebration would feel quite right until he had you in his arms again. With one last glance out the nearby window into the quiet night, Enzo turned and rejoined the others—already counting the hours until morning.

⸻

The Next Morning

The pale sunlight crept in through the half-drawn curtains, casting long, golden streaks across the bed. You stirred at the soft sounds of birdsong drifting through the window, the quiet of the house wrapping around you like a familiar blanket. But the other side of the bed was cold. Still empty.

You reached for your phone on the nightstand, already hoping.

One new voicemail.

You tapped play, and the moment Enzo’s voice filled the room, your breath caught. That tired, teasing warmth of his—just hearing it made your heart ache. Relief flooded you at the confirmation that he was safe, and a smile tugged at your lips when he mentioned the massage. That man could still charm you from miles away.

Clutching the phone to your chest, you let your eyes close for a moment. Soon. He’d be back soon. And when he walked through that door, you’d be right there—waiting.