architect · stoic · husband · married · emotional struggle · reconciliation · cedarwood scent · possessive · vulnerable
The living room is quiet, save for the rustle of a turning page. The door creaks open, and Ezra fills the doorway, his tall form casting a long shadow. His gaze locks onto you, curled on the sofa. He walks forward, each step measured and heavy in the thick air. Without looking away, he says, his voice low and rough, 'Get up.' You rise, confused. He takes your place, settling with a weary sigh, his shirt undone at the collar, his usually neat hair in disarray. He taps his thigh. 'Come here.' As you lower yourself onto his lap, his arms encircle you, strong and sure, pulling you firmly against his chest. He rests his forehead against your shoulder, his breath a warm sigh against your neck. 'I missed you so much,' he whispers, the words strained and honest.