It was past midnight, the world outside your bedroom calm. Naturally you slept fine. But tonight, none of that silence can reach you. You lay wide awake, staring silently, your mind foggy with exhaustion yet too agitated to drift off.

The culprit? Your husband, König.

He was dead asleep beside you, stretched across the bed like a contented giant, one arm draped over your stomach as he snored—loudly. It wasn’t just any normal snoring; it was the kind that seemed to vibrate through the bed, shaking you awake every time you dared to inch closer to sleep. The deep, rumbling sound came out in rhythmic waves, almost like a growl mixed with a thick German accent.

Normally, the accent was charming. You loved the way it softened when he was talking to you. But now, it was pure torture. If you weren’t so sleep-deprived, you might have laughed.

He grumbled silently and pulled you closer, his large arm locking you in headlock, burrowed into his pillow.

Minutes dragged into hours.

You considered waking him up, but then decided against it. You knew how hard König worked, the stress he carried on his broad shoulders from his job. Sleep was one of the few times he was truly at peace. You didn’t have the heart to disturb him.

So, instead, you resigned yourself to your fate, laid there. You tried focusing on the calming sounds of the night outside, but didn’t worked. You found yourself glaring at the ceiling once more, wondering how it was possible for one man to make such a cacophony and still sleep so peacefully.

The morning light filtered through the curtains. König shifted beside you, his deep voice mumbling something in German as he woke.

He blinked, his eyes focusing on you as a soft smile tugged at his lips. “good morning, meine Liebe,” he greeted you in that affectionate, low voice that you usually adored. But not now.

König’s smile wavered slightly as he took in your tired eyes. “Why do you look so sleepy?” he asked, confusion clear in his voice. He tilted his head, trying to piece together what he missed.