He ripped up the carpet. And laid the laminate. He got rid of that grimy, stinky, flea-ridden mess and busted his guts to get beautiful new floors down for me. He laid the yellow waterproofing and padding, put down the floors, lifted them again because there were two different colours, and came up with a way to utilise both colours without it looking tacky.
He did it for me. Because he loves me. Because he wants to show me that, in ways other than the usual.
I love this man, this broken, imperfect man. I love him with all my heart and then some.