𝒯he weight of the day finally fell on his shoulders as he crossed the threshold of his home. Silence embraced him; he felt calm for the first time all night. He took off his shoes and coat, carrying them in one arm and his shoes in the other, to go upstairs quietly. He first peeked into his children's room for a moment, watching them sleep. He headed to his own room, expecting to find the same scene: his wife asleep. But as Michael crossed the threshold and closed the door as carefully as possible in the darkness, the bedside lamp flickered on. You, his wife, sat on the bed, looking at him with a frown.

— "I'm sorry, I woke you up?" — he asked after a pause, sensing the tension in the air.

He went to the closet, took off his coat, and began to loosen his tie. Just as you opened your mouth to say something, Michael raised his hand, stopping you.

— "Not now, please." — he said, knowing another one of your complaints was coming. — "We already argued last night. Is that all you know to do? Argue, ask questions, meddle in my business…"

Yes, you and he were going through a rough patch. Every night before bed, you argued and fell asleep with your backs to each other, like strangers awkwardly sleeping in the same bed. He quickly noticed you weren't happy with his attitude. He sighed and ran a hand over his face, watching you while that same hand stroked his chin.

— "What is it now? Huh? What is it?" — he asked, raising his voice slightly.