Sakura winced as the front door slid shut behind her with a little too much strength, closing her eyes for a brief moment before reopening them once the noise had stopped echoing through the cold, empty hallway.

Not surprisingly, she was met with darkness.

It was passed midnight, and the simple thought that it wasn't the first time that week that she came home so late made her cringe once more.

Shaking the snow from her hair, she unbuttoned her coat and slid it off her shoulders, hanging it neatly in the closet lined up at the entrance. She wasn't sure when exactly it had started to snow, but the parking lot had looked nothing as it had that morning when she stepped out of the hospital only forty minutes earlier. Instead, it had been white, bright, cold, and nearly impossible to cross in her high heels.

Bending down while resting one hand on the wall for support, she slowly undid the straps on each of her shoes, before unceremoniously kicking them off. A sigh of half pleasure, half pain escaped her lips as she was finally able to place her feet evenly on the ground, the coldness of the hardwood floors sending a shiver up her spine.

During her residency, her mentor had stressed the importance of a professional appearance, and even now, two years after she had officially become a doctor in every sense of the word, Sakura made sure she listened to her every precious piece of advice, even if she almost always ended up hating herself and her high-heels after a twelve-hour shift.

Tonight, too tired to pick them up, she left them abandoned on the floor, telling herself she would have a chance to put them away before her obsessive-compulsive husband would see them and rub her disorganized tendencies in her face—yet again. After all, she had an early surgery in the morning that she had been unable to reschedule, so she would be up… in four hours, she concluded with a glance at her watch.

Crossing the foyer slowly, she tried to be as silent as possible, heading into the large kitchen. As she found a tall glass stored neatly in a cabinet above the sink, she shook her head, pouring herself some cold water. She tried not to remember the mess she'd left in the kitchen the last time she'd entered it, sometime the day before, but it was impossible not to. She'd cooked dinner for herself and her boys and, needy of their presence, had left cleaning up for what she'd told herself to be the following morning.

And that was what it would have been—had she not slept through her alarm and ran out of the house in such a hurry she hadn't even had time to step into the kitchen, much less remember the mess.

Reluctantly, she figured she would have to accept her husband's insistent offer of hiring someone to handle the household chores. He'd mentioned it from the moment they'd returned from their honeymoon, claiming there was nothing wrong with having a person clean up and cook a meal once or twice a week, seeing as they were both busy people and that it would be a shame to waste the little time they had together by tending to such trivial matters. Sakura had refused on the premise that it was easy for him to say that, considering he'd grown up surrounded by maids, cooks, butlers and drivers. She, on the other hand, was not used to that, and she would feel terrible, having someone else clean up her mess. With Sasuke doing it for her more and more often lately, though, it became clear to her that she'd have to choose the lesser of two evils.

Quenching her thirst, ensuring to rinse and clean the glass, as well as put it in its place afterwards, she walked out of the kitchen and down the hallway, making her way towards the large, winding staircase that had won her over from the very first moment she'd stepped into the house, when she was vising with Sasuke, searching for a place to live, her engagement ring new and heavy on her finger.

Smiling at the memory, shaking her head at the fact that it felt as though it had been so long since then, when, in reality, she had only been Mrs. Uchiha for three years, Sakura ran her hand over the wooden railing as she slowly started climbing upstairs.

Her muscles burned with each heavy step she took, and the only thought that soothed her was that she had nothing else scheduled for the rest of the week after the following day's surgery—and then she and her little family would be off to her husband's vacation home in the Alps and she would be able to leave the hospital, her patients, and all of the stress behind, and simply focus on what mattered most in her life.

As she was silently dragging her feet towards the bedroom she shared with Sasuke, she frowned, starting to hear hushed voices—and, as soon as she did, the atmosphere in the house changed. Far from big, cold, and lifeless, it suddenly turned warm and filled with love, and her heart started to beat faster as she stopped in front of the door and realized that the noise was actually coming from inside.

Turning the knob, she poked her head in, her tired eyes nearly filling with tears as they took in the beautiful sight she was met with.

Her husband was lying on their bed, propped up against a stack of pillows, with a tablet in his hands and their four-year-old son snuggled up into his side. His messy hair suggested that he had actually gone to sleep that night and not waited up for her again, but he still looked impossibly gorgeous—even tired, sleepy, and clad in an old, worn t-shirt she had once bought for him, and a pair of possibly even older pajama pants.

And his onyx eyes, the eyes that she had fallen in love with so many years before, on that cold, snowy night she'd lost track of time in the university library, were fixed on her—worried, surprised, soft, loving. And, just like any other time, she completely melted under his gaze.

"Mommy!" Daisuke shouted excitedly, clambering out of bed so fast it made his father sit up straighter and reach for his arm in an effort to prevent him from tripping and falling, letting go only once he was safe on the ground, allowing him to run straight into his mother's embrace.

"My baby," she murmured in greeting, bending down to sweep him up in her arms, pressing her lips to his cheek as he hugged her tightly around the neck.

"I missed you!" he proclaimed, pulling back, and her heart almost broke at the sincerity that she saw reflected in eyes that were as onyx as his father's.

Everything about him seemed to have been taken from Sasuke. He clearly inherited her cheery, bubbly personality, but on the outside, he was all pale skin, dark irises, and most of all, unnaturally messy hair.

"Sweetie, I missed you, too," she crooned, brushing a hand over his cheek. "But Mommy has to work more sometimes, you know that."

He nodded. "Daddy told me."

She smiled. "He did, didn't he?" Setting him down on his feet, her gaze returned to her husband, who had crossed his arms over his chest and seemed to have been simply gazing at them, a soft expression on his face. "What are you both doing up?"

"I couldn't sleep," Daisuke answered for him as he climbed back on the bed, coming to settle beside his father again, who welcomed him into his side with an arm wrapped protectively around his little shoulders. "So Daddy was showing me some videos!"

Sakura couldn't help but smile as she walked around the bed to take a seat on the other side of the person in question, bending down to press a light kiss to his lips. Electricity sizzled beneath her skin even with the brief touch, a fact that she both loved and hated about him—that he could still render her med-school-graduating, award-winning brain stupid and speechless with a single touch, sometimes even a single glance, as if they were still mere teenagers, unaccustomed with each other's presence, unused to each other's bodies.

"Is that so?" she asked, smiling indulgently.

Leave it to Sasuke to browse Youtube with their son instead of opening a book to read him a story. But she made no further comment, because she knew that went further than mere laziness or his apparent severe dislike of speaking. She knew how excited he was about his company, his gadgets, his work and what he did on an almost day to day basis—and she knew he would pass that on to his son, in whatever form that would be. It was simply impossible not to.

And this nightly ritual of theirs that happened whenever she wasn't home and Daisuke couldn't sleep, had already become a tradition—different than all others, perhaps, but theirs, and she had no doubt it would be a beautiful memory some day in the distant future.

"Are you alright?" Sasuke asked, bringing her back from her thoughts. His gaze was gentle; his voice was warm, soothing, but tainted with a speck of worry. She wondered if that was her dark circles speaking or the tiredness that she felt was etched in her every pore.

"I'm fine," she told him, equally softly. "Just tired."

His hand brushed over hers, fingers intertwining, before he brought it up to his lips to press a small kiss to it. Once more, she smiled. Sasuke was not one for such gestures, but because he knew she was, he swallowed his pride and made them—rarely, that was true; but that was also what made them all the more special.

Deprived of her presence , Daisuke fought to regain her attention, and she felt the first acute pang of regret when he started filling her in with little stories and details about his day that she couldn't connect with the recent past—because she simply hadn't been there to listen to his rambles in what seemed to be such a long time.

Sakura had known, from the very beginning, what she was signing up for when she received her acceptance letter to one of the best medical schools in the country. She'd known what her future would shape up to be in terms of stress and work hours, and to this day she was amazed at the fact that she had found a man willing not only to deal with that, but to love her for it, too. She was used to arriving home at odd hours and never getting enough sleep and looking forward to weekends and short vacations just so she could enjoy a little more time spent in bed with her husband in the mornings.

But she'd never quite resented her job and her crazy schedule as much as she started to do so now. She'd worked hard, much harder than most of her colleagues, to become the best medic she could and reach this place in her career while she was still in her late twenties. And perhaps it was the long maternity leave or perhaps it was the fact that she hadn't been entirely prepared to face the responsibilities that had come with the title of the best surgeon in the country, but she couldn't seem to wrap her mind around the idea that her husband, an iconic businessman who was running an entire empire, managed to spend more time with their son that she did.

"Will you take me to the park tomorrow, Mommy?" Daisuke asked, his eyes almost pleading, and Sakura's heart very nearly broke.

"I will, sweetie," she promised, running a comforting hand through his messy hair. "We'll go to the park in the afternoon."

And she swore, yet again, to keep that promise even if she was dead on her feet by the time she walked out of the operating room the following day.

Standing up, she heaved a sigh. "I'm just going to change really quick, alright?"

"Okay!" the boy announced, clearly already excited, before turning his attention back to the tablet in his father's lap, and Sakura didn't wait for another confirmation before she disappeared into the walk-in closet attached to their bedroom.

Had she lingered, she would have probably noticed her husband climb out of bed and follow her.

As it was, though, she didn't, and she jumped when his hand suddenly touched hers, seemingly appearing out of nowhere as she was trying to reach around the back of her dress.

"It's me," he let her know, even though it was an useless piece of information, placing a hand over her shoulder while the other swiftly pulled down the zipper, loosening the hold of the black garment.

"Sorry," she murmured, closing her eyes. "I'm jumpy when I'm tired."

"And deaf, too," he jabbed, brushing his lips to her neck, causing her to smile.

"Thank you," she said. Then added, to be sure, "For the help."

With her back still to him, she allowed her dress to slip down her body and pool around her feet before she gracefully stepped out of it. She could feel him watching, his gaze heavy on her bare skin, as she picked it up and then tossed it in the hamper, making a beeline for her pajama drawer.

"Are you really alright?" he asked, and it was almost the question she hadn't expected. Almost.

"Yeah," she answered with a heavy sigh. "It's just…" She trailed off, shaking her head. It proved incredibly difficult for her to find her words without having a breakdown right then and there. "I'm missing out on so much… I…"

A small frown appeared on Sasuke's face as he immediately cut in. "What are you talking about?" he asked, stepping closer. "It's only been a day."

"A day means so much with him, Sasuke," she insisted. "He's growing up so fast, everything is happening so quickly, and so much is going on in his life—and I can't keep up, not with this schedule! I—"

"Shh," he interrupted, stopping her ramble while at the same time grasping her wrists, also putting an end to her feverish gesticulation. When he spoke, his voice was firm, but calm and trustworthy. "Sakura. Look at me," he demanded, and she obeyed in an instant. "It's fine. Calm down. It won't always be this bad. It's just a messy time; it'll pass. You're busier sometimes, but it eventually lets out. You know this."

"And how exactly do I know this?" she mocked, and he was surprised to notice the tears in her eyes.

His voice softened. "It's happened before, Sakura. Remember? And we came out alright."

"But Daisuke wasn't in the picture before!" she stressed. "And…" Abruptly, she stopped.

Sasuke loosened his hold on her hands and gave her a moment to recollect herself. Then, he felt the need to remind her, "You'd hate yourself if you gave up your job."

Sakura shook her head. She hadn't even considered that option, and she sighed with the realization that her complaints were completely pointless if she had no intention of actually acting upon them.

"You're tired," her husband told her as he brushed a lock of hair behind her ear. "You're stressed. That's all. You'll have a different perspective once we've come back from our vacation."

She smiled tiredly, wrapping her arms around his waist, sighing once more and closing her eyes in contentment as he welcomed her with his own embrace and pressed a kiss to the top of her head. Her husband was also not very affectionate; but he tried—and managed so well.

He always knew exactly what to say, exactly what to do, and he seemed to read her mind and her feelings with a clarity that not even she, herself, managed. And, once again, he proved to be right.

She was tired. She was exhausted, actually. She didn't know when one shift ended and another one began—not anymore. She was never home, she didn't get enough sleep, she didn't have time to eat and, lately, it almost seemed as though she didn't even have time to breathe. And when, upon coming home from another harsh day, on top of everything, she heard her child say that he missed her, she had almost broken. Of course she had. She'd sworn she'd be there for him in everything from the moment she found out she was pregnant, and it was clear that, so far, she hadn't been very good at keeping that promise.

Regardless of that, though, she was completely at peace with her life. She had everything a woman could possibly want: health, intelligence, beauty, a brilliant career, an amazing husband and a beautiful son. It simply got a bit too much sometimes.

"Come on," Sasuke murmured, pulling back. "Put something on and come to bed. You're already tired enough as it is."

Thankfully, she had him to ground her when that happened, she thought as she watched him leave the room, a small smile on her face.

She didn't know what she'd do with her crazy self and her messy mind if he weren't there, pragmatic and organized to the point where it was almost laughable, to help her out. She couldn't imagine life without him—it was a conclusion she had reached even before they were married. She couldn't imagine life without their child, their little family; even their failed guard dog that never left the front of the fireplace and that Sasuke disliked so much. She wouldn't be able to cope without them.

Somewhere in the back of her mind, she wondered if she had ever and she asked herself if that made her weak, but she discovered, all in the span of three seconds and with her mind sluggish and stressed-out, that she didn't care and that it didn't matter.

She had him. She didn't have a reason to contemplate a life without Sasuke, because he was right there and he had promised her he always would be.

And, if there was anybody in the world she would trust blindly, recklessly, uncaringly, no matter the situation… that was and would forever be her husband.

A/N: Merry Christmas, everybody, and a Happy New Year! This is my present for you! I'd intended on much more, but life this year turned out to be a bit too hectic, so I enjoyed being lazy a bit more than previous winters. I've decided that next year I'm doing Christmas prompts (and I can't wait)!

Anyway, I hope you've enjoyed this little one-shot, and I will see you all next year! :) Please review!