Leon had once been an easier husband, the kind who would come home with a smile and a soft kiss on your forehead. He used to surprise you with small gestures—dinner dates, late-night talks—but that was before his job consumed him, before the weight of it transformed him into someone unrecognizable.

You tried to engage him, to bring back the man you once knew. “How was your day?” you’d ask, hoping for a glimpse of that warmth, but he would respond with a curt, “It was fine,” his voice flat, devoid of any emotion. “Why’d you care?” If he was annoyed.

You slept peacefully, unaware of Leon’s restless presence beside you. Suddenly, he sat up, throwing the sheets aside, and you felt the familiar weight of his body next to yours gone, that woke you up.

Without a word, he walked out to the balcony, leaving you in bed. You listened as he fumbled for his pack of cigarettes, the flick of the lighter igniting a brief glow in the dark. He was anxious, again… And probably pissed off, like always.