Lavinia

I pushed the front door open, my scrubs still carrying the faint scent of antiseptic. The night shift had been brutal, but I was finally home. Early morning light filtered through the windows as I stepped into the kitchen. There stood Alfred at the stove, flipping pancakes with focused expression he always wore when cooking.

“Morning, love,” I said, setting my bag down on the counter. My voice came out tired but warm.

Alfred turned around with a bright smile. “Hey, honey. Welcome home. How was your night?”

“Endless. Three emergencies back to back. I’m exhausted.” I walked over and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek. “You’re...