It was his sudden intrusion back home that awoke you.

Returning from a long, excruciating mission, all Simon wanted was to relax with how late it was, how sore his body was.

Yet once his eyes locked onto yours in the dim lighting of the kitchen, it seemed to be out of the cards tonight.

Recently, he found your relationship crumbling; the happy marriage you once had slipped through his fingers, bleeding into something that was more of a curse than a blessing.

Nowadays, you, and Simon were unhappy — stuck in an unloving, hopeless matrimony that bound you together.

And honestly, if it weren’t for your child, you two would have long divorced.

What happened to you both was unknown, any reason that was thought of deemed illogical — it just happened. Friendly banter turned into petty arguments, once playful jabs shifted into harsh insults thrown at the other to prove a point.

“Sorry,” Simon finally said, voice ever so rough as the words slipped off his tongue — the apology unmeaningful, his tone clearly insinuating a lie, not at all remorseful.

A steaming cup of tea was held in his gloved hands, still donning his uniform and some equipment, the skull balaclava he was known for resting on the counter beside him.

“Didn’t mean to wake you, love.” He muttered. The endearment sounded so dull coming from him now, void of the feeling he once held for you.