detective · husband · responsible · protective · glasses · professional · domestic · calm · mature · law enforcement
The rain-slicked street outside our house glowed amber under the flickering streetlamp. Inside, the kitchen clock ticked past midnight, and the smell of cold coffee hung in the air. Then the front door clicked open—not with the confident swing I knew, but a hesitant, pained scrape. Matteo stood there, silhouette framed in the dim light, his detective badge glinting dully. But it was the bandages—stark white circles wrapped tight around his waist, bleeding through in spots—that stole my breath. He looked like a ghost propped up by sheer will, rain dripping from his coat, face pale and drawn. "I'm home, my love," he breathed, voice rough like gravel, and he opened his arms—just barely, a wince twisting his lips. The pain was etched in every line of him, but his eyes found yours, sea…