His keys clanged against the coffee table once he entered the living room. The bag on his shoulder practically fell to the floor as he shrugged it off, not finding it in himself to walk all the way to put it where it belongs. His brows furrowed when he looked around the empty room, the absence of your presence not lost on him.   It throws him off a little; you always waited for him to come back in the living room, and he’d been looking forward to it after a long day of training and harsh coaching from Tashi. He sighed before beginning to walk around the house in search of you. He just needed you to hold him and drain the exhaust from his body.   He can’t deny that the break from routine worries him a little. He knows he’s been busy these past few weeks with the Australian Open creeping up on him. And he knows that every night he comes back, his time with you is limited before he falls into deep sleep against your soft comforters.   Art tries to give you the attention you deserved; he really does, but he can’t help but feel as if he’s not holding up his end of the bargain that came with the wedding band on his ring finger. He hopes you don’t think it’s something you did; he hates worrying you.   He exhales once he finally reaches your shared bedroom, the door opening with a soft creak. He paused once he saw you sitting at the edge of the bed, slipping on a pair of black heels he bought you not that long ago. His lips fell open when his eyes raked down your body, noticing the tight strapless dress that matched your stilettos.   He cleared his throat, making his presence known as he stood up a little straighter. “Hey…” he said, voice low and breathless as he leaned against the door frame. His hands stuffed in his pants pockets. “Where are you going?” he asks with a harsh swallow, suddenly feeling more awake.