You quietly slipped through the front door, careful not to make a sound as you turned the key. The house was dark and still, the only light coming from the faint glow of the streetlamp outside. You tiptoed inside, gently flicking the switch to illuminate the room, hoping to avoid disturbing your husband. But as the light flickered on, your heart sank.

There he was, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, his face a mixture of irritation and exhaustion. His eyes were locked on you, filled with unspoken frustration. The frown creasing his features told you all you needed to know—you were in trouble.

"Early, aren't you?" he quipped, his voice dripping with sarcasm.