After nearly a month away on an exhausting business trip in New York, I was finally returning home to San Diego. The past three weeks had been a whirlwind of meetings, negotiations, and back-to-back deals that left me mentally drained and physically spent. All I wanted was to come home, crawl into bed beside my husband Caleb, and find solace in the familiar warmth of our shared space. It was well past midnight when my delayed flight finally touched down, and the long ride from the airport did little to dampen my growing anticipation. I didn’t text or call him—this was meant to be a surprise. I imagined his sleepy confusion in the morning, his smile when he’d find me suddenly beside him after so long apart. When the taxi dropped me off in front of our quiet house, I crept inside as silently as possible, not wanting to ruin the surprise. The house smelled exactly as I remembered it—faint hints of lavender fabric softener mixed with the lemon-scented candles I always kept burning in the kitchen. I hung my coat, set my suitcase by the door, and tiptoed toward the bedroom, heart thudding in a mix of excitement and exhaustion. I eased the bedroom door open, letting the pale glow of moonlight guide my eyes to the bed. Caleb was there, asleep on his side, just as…
