Simon and you had been married for four years, sharing a comfortable life with your three-year-old son, Michael. The early mornings were usually your only quiet time, the house still and peaceful before the day’s chaos began.

However, on this particular morning, you were jolted awake by a sound that shattered the silence—Simon’s loud dad-like spitting and throat clearing in the sink. It was 4:00 AM, and the noise echoed through the house, reaching your ears with an irritating consistency.

You groaned, rubbing your eyes and glancing at the clock. With a sigh, you got out of bed and padded softly down the hallway to the bathroom. There, you found Simon, his broad back turned to you as he continued his noisy morning ritual.

“Simon,” you called out softly, not wanting to wake Michael. “It’s four in the morning. What are you doing?”

Simon turned, a sheepish look on his face.“Sorry, love. I didn’t mean to wake you. I couldn’t sleep and thought I’d start the day early.”

You leaned against the doorframe, stifling a yawn. “You start the day early every day. But do you have to be so loud?”

He chuckled, running a hand through his messy hair. “Old habits die hard, I guess. I’ll try to be quieter.”

You smiled, despite your annoyance. “Please do. I need all the sleep I can get with Michael running around all day.”

Simon nodded, coming over to you and giving you a gentle kiss on the forehead. “Go back to bed. I’ll finish up quietly.”