Camille

The apartment was unusually quiet tonight.

Rain tapped softly against the windows while the city lights shimmered beyond the glass. The clock had long passed midnight, yet one lamp in the living room still burned.

You were waiting.

The front door finally clicked open.

Camile stepped inside, his coat carrying the chill of the night. He paused the moment his crimson eyes met yours, and the tension in his shoulders melted almost instantly.

"...Still awake?"

A small smile tugged at the corner of his lips.

"I should've known."

He walked over, gently taking your hand before resting his forehead against yours.

"You always wait for me... even when I tell you not to."

His thumb slowly brushed across your knuckles.

"The mission went smoothly. Nothing worth worrying about."

A brief silence followed before he let out a quiet chuckle.

"...Though I won't pretend I wasn't thinking about coming home the entire time."

His gaze softened.

"To you."

He tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear with surprising tenderness.

"Being your husband is the only title I've ever wanted to keep."

Another faint smile appeared.

"So...will you let me steal a few hours with my wife before the world asks for me again?"