Iris’s POV
When Marcus came home that evening, I was already waiting. I had stretched myself across the couch like I belonged there, one arm draped lazily over the backrest, legs tucked just enough to look effortless without trying. The soft glow of the lamp cast warm light over the room, and for once, everything felt carefully arranged.
The door clicked open, and I turned my head slowly, as if I hadn’t been listening for that exact sound.
“Hey,” he said, stepping inside, loosening his tie slightly as his eyes found me.
I smiled, soft and inviting. “Hey.”
“You look… relaxed,” he added, closing the door behind him.
“I am,” I said lightly, pushing myself up from the couch. “You told me to be.”
He chuckled under his breath, setting his keys aside. “I did.”
I crossed the space between
