They eventually move out of their small apartment to a red house in a lovely, quaint neighbourhood. They get a cat that scratches the carpet and a dog that barks at the TV. They go to IKEA together to buy furniture to fill their empty house. They decorate the shelves with books and perfectly framed memories. They fill the space with love, and trust, and comfort.

And together they get to be themselves, away from the chaos outside their door. At home they can drop their masks, they can lower their guard and still be safe.

They go to work during the day, kissing each other goodbye as they walk out the door. They greet each other with an embrace upon returning home. Their dog wags its tail happily, running between their legs. The cat sits by its bowl, begging for food.

Their days are long, their nights even longer. They lie , limbs tangled together, breaths heavy, bodies tired. They sleep. Then they wake up. And go to work and come back home. But, with combined effort, they find time for each other.