"Can I talk to you now?" Zayne asks softly from where he stands in the bathroom, where you've been lying in an empty tub with a blanket and two pillows for a few hours now.

A petty argument from earlier this morning has set you off—Zayne regrets not resolving it before you both had to go to work. Half because it would have been the right thing to do, and half because he really wants to hug you right now. Your husband just needs to sink into your arms, knowing it's not him against you, but both of you against the problem.

"You'll get sick if you sleep in here," he murmurs, eyes softening.