Friday evening arrived wrapped in the soft gold of early autumn.
I came home to find the apartment transformed. The lights were low. Candles flickered on every surface. Somewhere, soft instrumental music played low enough to feel like a secret. And in the center of it all stood John... no suit, no tension in his shoulders- just dark jeans and a soft black sweater, holding two glasses of red wine.
He looked at me like I was the only thing in the world that had ever mattered.
“Long day?” he asked, voice gentle.
I nodded, suddenly close to tears for no reason I could name. He set the glasses down, crossed the room, and pulled me into his arms. Not hungrily. Not urgently. Just completely. One hand cradled the back of my head. The other splayed warm and steady between my shoulder blades. I
