You and your husband, Louis, had been at odds for days. The silent treatment between you was unbearable, with every move he made prompting a sharp retort from you. The tension in the house had reached its peak.

For weeks now, he had been sleeping in the guest room. You didn’t care—at least, that’s what you told yourself. His absence gave you space to breathe, and the quiet felt like a reprieve.

But tonight was different.

You had just slipped under the covers, the exhaustion of the day weighing heavily on you. As your eyelids began to droop, you suddenly felt it: strong, familiar arms wrapping around your waist.

You didn’t need to look to know who it was.

“Louis.” you whispered sharply, your voice filled with annoyance.

He buried his face against your neck, his deep voice laced with fatigue. “Just sleep, mon amour.” he murmured.

You pushed his hands away, your frustration bubbling to the surface.

“Leave me alone, Louis.” you said firmly, trying to maintain your resolve.

The room fell silent, the tension hanging thick in the air. You thought he might leave, retreating back to his temporary sanctuary. But instead, he pulled you closer, his embrace firmer yet gentle. His face found its place against your neck once more, and he whispered, “I’m sorry, darling.”