Morning sunlight poured through the half-open curtains, spilling warmth across the room — a sharp contrast to the restless night before. Mira lay awake long before the alarm rang, her hand tracing absent patterns on the sheets beside her. Alden stirred, reaching for his glasses at the nightstand, when she suddenly turned toward him with a soft, pleading whisper.
"Don't go to work today."
He paused, one brow arching.
"Mira… I have three patients waiting, and a conference call with—"
"Cancel it," she said quickly, sitting up and clutching the blanket around her shoulders like a cape. "Tell them your wife might die of loneliness if you walk out that door."
He chuckled, rubbing his eyes. "You'll survive, sweetheart. You have a whole house, a TV, and that ridiculous stuffed seal of yours for company."
She gasped theatrically. "Mr Seal is not ridiculous. He listens better than you do!"
He shook his head, amused, and began buttoning his shirt. "You're impossible."
As he tried to make his way to the wardrobe, she slid off the bed and followed him, stepping right in front of him every time he moved.
"Please," she said again, tugging at his sleeve. "Just one day. You've been working non-stop. You need a break. We need a break."
"Mira…" he sighed. "You said that yesterday."
"And I was right yesterday, too!"
Before he could reply, she dropped dramatically to her knees, wrapping her arms around his leg. Alden froze, staring down in disbelief.
"Mira, what are you—"
She clung tighter, her voice muffled against his knee. "You shall not pass!"
He laughed — genuinely this time — a deep, reluctant sound that filled the room. "You're out of your mind."
"Exactly!" she declared, looking up at him with wide, playful eyes. "And if you leave, I'll make sure the neighbours know you abandoned your mentally unstable wife."
Alden groaned, running a hand through his hair. "You're blackmailing me with insanity now?"
"Desperate times, doctor."
He finally dropped the briefcase on the bed with a sigh of surrender. "Fine. You win. But if my assistant calls, you're answering."
She gasped in victory, springing up to her feet. "Deal!"
He pointed at her. "And don't you dare screen my calls again like last week."
"I thought it was a telemarketer!"
"It was the dean of psychology!"
"Oh, please, same thing," she said with a dismissive wave. "Both of them want your soul."
Alden couldn't help but laugh again, shaking his head as she pranced to the kitchen, humming triumphantly. "You're insufferable," he muttered, following her.
"But adorable," she shot back.
As they made breakfast together—burnt toast, over-buttered eggs, and laughter between sips of coffee — Mira's smile looked radiant again, almost convincing. Yet behind her playful banter, something restless still flickered in her eyes. Every time Alden turned his back, she'd glance toward the window, as if the outside world was pressing against the glass — waiting to take him away.
And for today, she wouldn't let it.
The morning melted into sunlight and mischief. The coffee mugs were still half full on the table when Mira tossed Alden a game controller with that dangerous glint in her eyes — the one that always meant trouble disguised as fun.
"Ready to lose?" she teased.
Alden raised an eyebrow, settling onto the couch. "You're talking to the man who once defeated three interns at this game. Simultaneously."
"Three interns and still zero mercy for your wife," she said, sticking her tongue out. "You're a monster."
Ten minutes later, Mira was howling in frustration while her on-screen character repeatedly fell into a pit of fire.
"STOP PUSHING ME!" she shrieked, clutching her controller like a weapon.
"I'm helping you!" Alden protested, laughing so hard he nearly dropped his own.
"You're killing me!" she yelled, lunging at him — and he caught her mid-attack, both of them collapsing into helpless laughter, tangled in the controller wires like two kids who had forgotten they were adults.
When the game finally paused, Mira lay dramatically sprawled on the rug. "I demand a rematch. A fair one this time."
Alden grinned. "Fine, but first — call my assistant and tell her I won't be in. Let's see how you handle someone who doesn't give in to your puppy eyes."
"Oh, please. I have my ways," she said confidently, hopping up and grabbing his phone.
Five minutes later, Alden was sipping his coffee when Mira turned around from the kitchen counter, smug as a cat who had just stolen the cream.
"She said okay," Mira announced, hands on her hips.
His brows rose. "That's impossible. She never—"
"I may or may not have told her," Mira interrupted, "that you had a sudden attack of emotional fatigue due to the psychological strain of dealing with my erratic behaviour."
Alden choked on his drink. "You what?"
"She laughed so hard she said you deserved a break," Mira added proudly.
There was a pause. Then Alden leaned back, an amused grin spreading slowly across his face. "You're unbelievable."
"Unbelievably persuasive," she corrected, doing a small victory dance in front of him — a mix of wild spins and silly arm flails that made him shake his head in disbelief.
"Alright, Miss Persuasive…" he said, grabbing the biggest pillow from the couch and aiming it like a cannon.
"Don't you dare!" she squealed, still laughing.
"Consider this… retaliation!"
The pillow soared through the air in slow motion — thump! — and Mira went flying backwards with a startled squeak, landing flat on the rug. For a moment, there was silence. Then Alden's laughter erupted — deep, uncontrollable, genuine.
"Oh my God—Mira!" he gasped between laughs. "Are you—are you alive?"
She lifted one hand weakly, like a fallen warrior. "Barely… you monster…"
He fumbled for his phone, already grinning. "Wait, wait—tell me I didn't just get that on video."
Her eyes widened as he burst into another fit of laughter, replaying the clip.
"I swear I'm going to add that sound effect," she groaned, sitting up and rubbing her forehead.
"What sound effect?"
"You know," she said, lowering her voice dramatically, "'WATCH OUT—JOHN CENA!'"
Alden almost spilled his coffee again. "You're insane."
She smirked. "That's why you married me."
He looked at her — her hair a mess, eyes bright, laughter bubbling despite the faint bruise forming on her temple — and for a fleeting second, he saw the woman he thought he knew. The warmth. The chaos. The illusion of a perfect life.
And yet, deep down, something told him this laughter… was the calm before the storm.