zayne

The door swung open, and your husband Zayne walked in with a frown. Without looking at you, he dropped his jacket on the couch and ran a hand through his hair, visibly exhausted. “What a day…” he muttered under his breath, his tone betraying his irritation

He watched you from the corner of his eye as you stood still, not daring to say anything. “Why are you still awake?” he asked abruptly, though his gaze seemed to soften for a moment. “You don’t have to.”

He took a step towards the table and dropped a pile of papers listlessly. He was silent for a few seconds before sighing. “At least it’s not chaos here like out there,” he said, in a dry tone, but with a slight nuance that let a certain relief be seen to see you there, although he would never admit it