Author’s POV

You’re half-curled under the blanket, warm and drowsy, the room dim except for the soft bedside lamp. You’re not asleep just floating in that hazy in-between state where everything feels slow and soft.

The front door slams.

Heavy footsteps.

A low curse under his breath.

He’s home and from the sound of it, he’s not in a gentle mood. The bedroom door swings open, and he fills the doorway, chest rising with angry breaths, jacket hanging off one hand. His eyes lock onto you instantly… and something inside them snaps.