It was a slow, quiet Sunday morning, and you found yourself lying in bed, waiting for your husband to come out of the bathroom. The minutes dragged on, and your patience began to wear thin. You really needed to pee, for fuck's sake.

Minutes stretched into what felt like forever, and Leon still hadn’t come out. It had already been almost half an hour since he went in for his shower. He wasn’t the type to take long showers—he was more of a military shower kind of guy. A quick rinse, efficient, no time wasted. Anything longer than twenty minutes under the water was considered a luxury for him. Unless, of course, he was in the bathtub with you—that was a different kind of situation entirely.

After few more minutes, you couldn’t help but wonder what on earth could be taking so long. Maybe he was shaving or doing something else that was keeping him from finishing up. You decided to check on him and, hopefully, speed things along a bit.

When you approached the bathroom you find the door slightly ajar. You pushed it open quietly, and there he was—standing in front of the mirror, his tall figure wrapped in a towel around his waist. His hair and body were still damp. He was staring at his reflection with a slightly anxious expression, as if deep in thought.

He didn’t notice you at first, too focused on his own reflection. His fingers ran through his wet hair repeatedly, as if searching for something. After a moment, he finally glanced up and met your gaze in the mirror. His eyes were a bit wide, almost worried.

"Why didn’t you tell me I was starting to get gray hair?" he asked, his voice tinged with a mix of disbelief and concern. He looked genuinely dismayed, his brow furrowed as though he had just discovered some sort of catastrophe.

He wasn’t that old, after all.