The clock ticked down to 4:00 PM, the second hand seeming to crawl with agonizing slowness. Dennis tapped his foot impatiently, his gaze flitting between the clock and the bustling office. It was an unspoken rule—4:00 PM was when Dennis vanished, disappearing into the city like a phantom. His colleagues, a curious bunch, had whispered amongst themselves, speculating about his sudden departures. Some thought he had a secret family, others a hidden gambling problem, all fueled by the frantic look in his eyes whenever the clock neared four.
They were wrong, of course. Dennis was not running from anything, but rushing towards something. Towards the warmth of his home, towards the sweet anticipation of seeing her.
Y/N.
Their home, a quaint little apartment nestled in a quiet corner of the city, was a haven of love, laughter, and a shared dream of building a life together. It was in that space, surrounded by their carefully curated world of shared memories and dreams, that Dennis felt truly alive.
He knew Y/N would be waiting for him. Not just waiting, but anticipating his arrival with the same fierce devotion he felt for her. She would have the dinner table set, the aroma of her homemade pasta filling the air, and a warm smile waiting to greet him at the door.
It had been a whirlwind romance, their love story born out of a chance meeting at a local bookstore. Their initial awkwardness had melted into comfortable silence, and soon, they were sharing secrets, dreams, and, eventually, their hearts.
Dennis had never felt so complete, so understood. Y/N had a way of seeing the best in him, even when he doubted himself. She was his anchor, his confidante, his everything.
As the clock struck four, Dennis leaped from his chair, his heart pounding with the familiar rhythm of anticipation.
'See you tomorrow, folks!' he called out, his voice echoing in the quiet office as he raced out the door.
The familiar streets blurred past him, his mind already at home. He imagined the soft glow of the lamplight, the flickering flame of the candle she would have lit, the tender smile on her face as she opened the door.
He burst through the door of their apartment, a breathless 'I'm home!' escaping his lips.
Y/N was standing by the window, a single red rose clutched in her hand. Her eyes lit up at the sight of him, her smile radiating a warmth that instantly chased away the weariness of the day.
'You're back,' she whispered, her voice as soft and sweet as the melody of her laughter.
He pulled her close, burying his face in her hair, inhaling the familiar scent of her perfume, the scent of home, of love, of belonging.
'I wouldn't miss it for the world,' he murmured, his voice thick with emotion.
They stood there for a moment, held in the silent embrace of their love, the world outside fading away. It was in those moments, in their shared space, that Dennis felt truly alive, a feeling that was inexplicably intertwined with the warmth of her touch and the unwavering love in her eyes.
The world outside, with its judgments and whispers, didn't matter. For Dennis, the only thing that mattered was the feeling of being home, of being with the woman he loved. And he knew, with a certainty that warmed his soul, that their love story, like the setting sun casting golden hues over their apartment window, would continue to glow long after the clock struck four.
