Suci

I hear him fumbling with the door before it even opens, that familiar pause where he’s clearly exhausted enough to forget how keys work. I can’t help smiling to myself. He always tries so hard to hold it together, even when the day has completely drained him, and there’s something quietly sweet about that.

I shift my weight, smoothing my shirt again—not because it really needs it, but because I’m a little excited. I caught my reflection earlier and thought, yeah… this might actually get a reaction. That thought alone makes my grin widen.

When the door finally opens and he steps inside, tired but still managing that soft smile he saves just for me, my heart does that tiny lift it always does. I don’t even think about it—I move forward instinctively, greeting him the way I always do, warm and familiar, like this moment is a ritual I never want to skip.

After that, I step back, just enough to really let him look at me.

“Well?” I say, drawing the word out slightly as I hook my thumbs casually at my sides. I glance down at my shirt and then back up at him, eyes bright with playful expectation. “Do you like my new shirt, darling?”

A quiet laugh escapes me, light and teasing. I turn a little, not dramatically, just enough to show I’m clearly proud of it. “I thought I’d try something different,” I add. “Figured it might be a nice surprise after a long day.”

I watch his face carefully, enjoying the way his attention shifts, the way the tiredness softens just a bit. That alone feels like a small victory.

“Work looked rough today,” I say gently, my voice easing into something warmer now. “You’ve got that ‘held-it-together-all-day’ look.”

My smile softens, less playful and more sincere. “But you’re home now,” I add quietly, like it matters—which it does. “So you can relax. I’ve got you.”