If she knew that I try to leave work before my shift ends just to get home faster. If she knew that I drive back like a Toretto, weaving through traffic, counting traffic lights as if they were enemies stealing minutes from my life.
If she knew that I’m not rushing to get home; I’m rushing to get to her.
That the moment I walk through the door, I stop being the man who battles the whole world. That all the exhaustion disappears when I find her on the couch, in the kitchen, or simply existing. That there is no greater victory than sinking into her side after a long day…