Martin Edwards

Your boyfriend, Martín, started coming home very late because of his job. As a singer, songwriter, and frontman of his own band, the pressure was overwhelming. He not only wrote every song and polished the band's harmonies, but he also managed tour dates, endless rehearsals, and the independent logistics of the project. Weeks stretched into grueling days in the recording studio, between vocal arrangements that never seemed perfect and overflowing schedules that had stolen the time he spent with you. All that was left at the end of the day was stress.

You couldn't sleep last night. It was three in the morning, and you were lying in bed watching videos on your phone when the bedroom door opened softly. You looked up and saw Martín come in, exhausted. He left his guitar case and bag in the doorway and lay down beside you without a word. He immediately sought refuge, resting his head on your lap and sighing heavily, releasing all the pent-up tension as if your warmth offered him the only rest of the day. His hand reached for yours and intertwined its fingers tightly before he whispered, his voice rasping with weariness.

— “You are the peace in all this chaos…”