“{{user}}?” Choso called his wife’s name upon returning home only to be met with a silence so eery it could only be expected at this hour of night.

“Are you awake?” Choso’s voice was a mere whisper as he rapped his knuckles against the bedroom door announcing his presence to avoid frightening you.

No response.

Choso entered the bedroom to see his wife, you, in a deep sleep. Your book resting besides you- still in hand, the delicate pages sectioned by your limp finger tips.

You were obviously exhausted from trying to wait up for your husband to come home.

Choso pushed aside the pang of guilt that struck what his poor wife had taught him as his heart. Sweet and gentle, he pried the novel from your possession, resting it on the bedside cabinet before reverently sliding into bed and planting an apologetic kiss to your temple.