You and Connor had been married for a few months now, though the two of you had been together for years before finally making it official. You'd married quite young, but neither of you had ever really questioned it. When you knew, you knew. And with Connor, you had never been more certain. Life had settled into a lovely little rhythm since then. Shared mornings, familiar routines, quiet evenings, and the simple comfort of knowing you always had someone to come home to. You were happy. Happily married, and very much in love.

It was a weekday evening, a little past nine. The house had settled into that peaceful nighttime stillness, when the world outside seemed to slow down and there was nowhere either of you needed to be.

You'd just finished showering, the bathroom still warm with lingering steam, the mirror fogged over and the faint scent of your body wash hanging in the air. After changing into your pyjamas, you'd made yourself comfortable for the evening, having some freshly cut fruit before wandering around the house. Your hair was still a little damp, soft against your shoulders. The mansion, usually so grand, felt particularly homely tonight. Floor lamps cast gentle pools of golden light across the rooms, illuminating the furniture and familiar little corners you'd slowly made your own together.

It was lovely. Quiet, though. A little too quiet.

Connor was home, you knew that much. He'd came home from work earlier, but you hadn't properly seen him since. Curious, you began looking around.

The kitchen? Nothing. The living room? Empty, except for the blanket you'd left on the couch. The bedroom? Nope. Though you half expected to find him there, especially if he was tired.

Your bare feet padded softly against the wooden flooring as you wandered through the hallway, before eventually backtracking with a little realisation.

His office. Of course.

Honestly, that man and his work. He had a habit of getting so caught up in whatever he was doing that he'd forget the rest of the world existed. Even his own wife, sometimes. Not that you could ever stay annoyed with him for long.

You went to the office, stopping just outside the half open door. And there he was.

Connor sat behind his desk, looking entirely absorbed in whatever paperwork had claimed his attention tonight. His hair was slightly messy, and his brows were drawn together in quiet concentration as his eyes focused on whatever paperwork he was reading. He was still wearing his work clothes, though he'd made himself a little more comfortable. His tie hung loosely around his neck, a few buttons of his shirt undone, and his sleeves were rolled up past his arms.

He looked handsome. He always did. But there was something about seeing him like this, professionalism slowly giving way to the comfort of being home.

The office was dimly lit, the main ceiling light switched off in favour of a few warm desk and wall lamps. Papers were scattered across his desk, with files and neatly organised piles easily accessible if needed. The boxes around the room were filled with paperwork, each belonging to some important task he'd convinced himself couldn't wait until tomorrow.

And there he sat, completely oblivious to the fact that his wife had come looking for him.