Chapter 3: The Doorbell Awakening

The Miller family dining table was a mosaic of half-filled plates, clinking glasses, and the soft hum of a peaceful evening. The sun had dipped below the horizon, leaving a warm, amber glow in the dining room. Richard and Sarah sat at either end of the table, their scrubs swapped for comfortable home attire. Lisa and Emily engaged in their usual debate about whose turn it was to do the dishes.

But, as usual, one chair remained empty—Alex's.

Sarah set down the serving bowl of mashed potatoes. "Emily, can you wake your brother, please? Dinner's getting cold."

Emily looked up from her plate, an exasperated expression on her face. "I already tried. His door is locked."

Lisa, never missing an opportunity, smirked. "Did you knock? Or did you just stare at the door and hope it would open itself?"

"I knocked, I called his phone, I even played his least favorite playlist outside his door. Nothing."

Richard put down his fork. "Did you use the doorbell?"

A soft, collective sigh filled the room.

The Millers had long abandoned traditional methods of waking Alex. Instead, Richard had installed a small doorbell system connected directly to a speaker in Alex's room. The button, a discreet white switch next to the kitchen light, activated a sound designed to cut through even the deepest of slumbers.

Lisa reached over and pressed the button.

In Alex's room, a soft but unmistakable chime played—a bright and cheerful tune that might belong on an ice cream truck. Within moments, the sound of shuffling feet grew closer, and Alex appeared in the doorway, his hair tousled, his expression both sleepy and mildly inconvenienced.

He slid into his chair, picked up his fork, and began eating without a word.

Family Dinner Conversations

Richard passed the salad bowl. "Good to see you, son. How was your nap?"

Alex, already halfway through his potatoes, mumbled, "Good. Too short."

Sarah smiled. "It's been three hours, sweetie."

"Exactly." He added a dollop of gravy to his plate. "Just enough to get through dinner."

Lisa snorted. "And then what? Another nap?"

Alex didn't look up. "Schoolwork. Chores. Ambiance research."

Emily's fork paused mid-air. "Ambiance research?"

He nodded, his expression entirely serious. "I need to test a new white noise app. It has a setting called 'Cozy Cabin in the Rain.' Could be promising."

Richard chuckled. "It's good to see you have a plan."

"I always have a plan." Alex's tone was matter-of-fact. "Dinner by 7:30, work until 9, asleep by 9:01."

Lisa raised an eyebrow. "And what happens if you're not asleep by 9:01?"

Alex's lips curled into the smallest of smiles. "I'll be asleep by 9:01."

A Structured Routine

Contrary to what most would think, Alex wasn't lazy. His approach to life was more about efficiency. He believed in doing just enough to get by, not out of a lack of ambition but because he saw no reason to waste energy. His parents understood this. They weren't concerned about his future or his grades. They had seen him ace tests with minimal effort, heard his oddly insightful takes on random topics, and witnessed how he could switch from napping to problem-solving with a simple shift in focus.

After dinner, Alex stood, placed his dishes in the sink, and left the dining room as quietly as he had entered.

"Do you think he'll finish his homework?" Emily asked.

Sarah nodded. "He always does. He just… does it differently."

Richard leaned back, smiling. "I have no doubt. When Alex decides to do something, he does it. We just have to trust his process."

The Pre-Bed Routine

Back in his room, Alex moved through his routine with practiced precision. He opened his schoolbag, pulling out a thin stack of papers. Homework assignments, mostly done. He scribbled a few answers, his handwriting neat but minimalist—just enough to show his work without expending unnecessary effort.

Next, he moved to his desk, where his laptop hummed softly. He opened a tab labeled "Ambiance Research", a playlist of sleep sounds queued up and ready for testing. With his headphones on, he clicked play on "Cozy Cabin in the Rain", closing his eyes to evaluate the sound quality.

His room was already set for sleep. The weighted blanket lay perfectly folded at the foot of his bed. The LED lights cast a dim, golden glow. The lavender diffuser let out gentle puffs of calming mist.

When his phone vibrated with a reminder—"9:00 PM: Time to Sleep"—Alex didn't hesitate. He set aside his work, changed into his ultra-soft pajamas, and climbed into bed.

The white noise machine purred to life, the sound of gentle rain and soft wind filling the room. Alex's breathing slowed, his muscles relaxed, and within moments, he was gone—drifting into dreams where cozy cabins were real, and the world outside was nothing more than a gentle hum.

Family Reflections

Back in the living room, Richard set down his book, his expression thoughtful. "You know, sometimes I worry we're too relaxed with him."

Sarah looked up from her magazine. "Do you really think so?"

"No." He smiled. "Not really. He's… unique. But I trust him."

Lisa peeked over the back of the couch. "He's probably already asleep."

Emily giggled. "And dreaming of clouds and blankets."

Sarah joined in their quiet laughter. "Whatever his dreams are, I'm sure they're wonderful."

The family settled back into their quiet evening, the house filled with the kind of peace only the Millers seemed to know.

And behind his door, Alex slept soundly—his world a perfect blend of comfort, structure, and the ever-elusive perfect ambiance.