The sun streamed through the bedroom windows, casting a golden glow over the room as Emma finished tying her hair into a loose bun.
She glanced at Alex, who stood by the closet, buttoning up his shirt, his brows slightly furrowed in concentration.
For a moment, she just watched him, taking in his presence. It was strange how much had changed in three months—how deep her love for him had grown.
How had she ever thought she could walk away from him last night?
Brushing the thought aside, she turned toward him. "Are you sure you don't want me to come with you?" she asked.
Alex looked up, meeting her gaze through the mirror. "There's no need, sweetheart," he said, fastening his watch. "I can handle it alone."
Emma pressed her lips together, considering. "I just don't like the idea of you dealing with this by yourself. Besides, I'm your wife. Shouldn't I be there with you?"
