Peter always came home late from work, his body beaten by fatigue and face looking disgusted with an expression that told stories of countless debates that resolved to nothing. He loved his work, despite how stressful it could be sometimes. Peter also loved something else - his peace and quiet. But that was something he seldom enjoyed, all thanks to his wife's endearing paranoia.
Peter had barely stepped out of his car when he saw Jessica's anxious face pressed against the glass door. His shoulders dropped at the sight, knowing too well what was coming. Before he could fumble with his keys, Jessica had flung open the door, letting out a gush of wind, fragrant with the smell of roasted chicken and fear.
Peter! You're so late! Did you caught in traffic again? Oh, and why's your face so pale? Did you eat anything at work?
Peter, rubbing his head, finally managed to voice his plans for the evening. Jess, love. I'm just tired. Let me just freshen up, okay?
Excusing himself from his caring but anxious wife, he walked up to the bathroom. After undressing and stepping into the warm bath, Peter let out a sigh of relief. He immersed himself completely, welcoming the peaceful tranquility offered by the small room. It wasn't long until his calm was broken.
Peter? came a voice from beyond the door. Are you alright? asked Jessica, her tone sounded worry. He didn't answer. Peter? Jessica insisted, her knuckles knocking on the bathroom door. I can't hear the water. Are you okay? she asked.
I'm fine, woman. Go, sit down. Relax! He yelled out in exasperation, praying for some undisturbed peace.
No, you could be drowning for all I know. You have to keep making noises! Jessica suggested, as if that were the most normal thing in the world.
As an elaborate joke, Peter just laid in the tub quite just to see if Jessica listening.
Jessica: Peter I told you to splash the water. Peter? Peter? I’m coming in.
A sound of fumbling and then a turn on the door knob.
Jessica: Peter why is the door lock? Peter?
I’m dialing 911.
Okay, alright, he gave in, to stop his paranoid wife from breaching the bathroom's tranquility. As an elaborate joke, Peter started splashing the water in such a dramatic manner, it almost seemed like he was drowning. The knocks and worry faded, replaced by quiet giggles.
Peter just lay there in the bath, soaking in warm water and silence, reflecting upon the quirky dynamics of his marriage. As annoying as she was, over how you take your bath he had to admit it: He was in love with the eccentricities of his partner and wouldn't trade his worrisome Jessica for the world's peace and quiet.