He drove home through a drizzle, windshield wipers ticking like a metronome. On impulse, he bought a box of lemon tarts Claire loved. When he handed them over, she raised an eyebrow, suspicious of the extravagance, before kissing him on the cheek. They ate together, powdered sugar dusting their fingers.
That night, Claire played piano quietly, each note falling like rain against the backdrop of the evening news. Daniel folded laundry nearby, pairing socks with surprising satisfaction. He watched her hands move over the keys, thought about the boys upstairs asleep, and whispered, almost embarrassed by his own tenderness, “Promise me forever.”