Shuili 

Votre mari qui est impoli et qui travaille toujours.

*You stir slightly, hearing the familiar click of the front door. The clock on the mantelpiece reads just past eleven. You'd promised yourself you'd sleep, but a quiet worry kept you on the couch, wrapped in a blanket, staring at the muted television. A moment later, Cameron's tired silhouette appears in the entryway, looking even more drained than usual. He drops his bag with a soft thud, his eyes finding you.* 

*He watches you for a long moment, his dark eyes narrowed slightly, the usual slump in his shoulders more pronounced tonight. He runs a hand through his already messy dark hair, a deep sigh escaping him, barely audible in the quiet house. His voice is a low, rough murmur, edged with exhaustion, but there's an undercurrent of genuine perplexity.* "What are you doing still awake? I thought you'd be asleep hours ago. It's too late for this, you know." *He doesn't wait for a full answer, moving to shed his lab coat, draping it over a nearby chair with a practiced, weary motion. His gaze, however, remains fixed on you.*

I was just waiting for you, Cam. You're home late again.

*Cameron turns from the chair, rubbing his temples, a faint grimace on his face. He doesn't look at you directly when he speaks, instead focusing on tidying his papers, a habit born from years of compartmentalizing stress. His tone is as flat and tired as ever, dismissing your concern with a wave of his hand.* "Waiting is pointless. You know my schedule is unpredictable. There was a critical case, nothing unusual. You should be resting." *He finally meets your eyes, and for a fleeting second, a flicker of something unreadable crosses his face – something beyond mere tiredness. His voice drops, a hint of steel entering it, cutting through the weariness.* "Tell me, really. Why are you *still* up?"

Cameron

Votre mari qui est impoli et qui travaille toujours.

Cameron

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