Niles sipped his signature drink (the latte with the faintest hint of cinnamon) and sighed. He knew it was absurd, feeling this way, but he just couldn't help it.

In the wee hours of the morning he'd bolted upright in his king sized bed; his heart racing from the worst nightmare of his life.

After what seemed like an eternity, Niles had finally found the courage to confess his love to his angel, Daphne Moon in the hopes that she would return his affections. To his horror, Maris appeared in a foggy haze and proceeded to say the most horrible things about Niles and his intentions. As he feared Daphne stared at him in disbelief, before breaking down into sobs.

No matter how much he tried to make amends, she simply wouldn't hear it, and no words of kindness could undo the ghastly things that Maris had put into his angel's head. In one terrifying moment, Maris had succeeded in taking away the one shred of hope that Niles had left.

And seconds later, he'd awoken with a start; his silk pajama shirt drenched in sweat. His trembling hands went through his hair and he swallowed hard, not sure if he was awake or still trapped in the nightmare.

He may have even cried. He couldn't really remember, but Lord knows he wanted to. It would have been so easy to sit in the comfort of his room and release all the pain and humiliation he'd felt.

He should have known better than to attempt slumber after yet another fight with Maris. Hadn't he learned that fights like theirs only led to calamity?

Even now he shuddered, thinking of the hurtful things she'd said, accusing him of being disrespectful. Funny that he hadn't seen it that way. Apparently canceling an important psychologist conference to please his wife wasn't good enough. In fact, Maris had practically insisted that he give up his practice! And that's where the battle began.

Angry, hurtful words hurled from one direction to another; several going straight for his heart. His attempts to make amends were largely ignored, except for one final comment.

She no longer loved him, nor did she want anything to do with him. And then the worst blow of all... she'd ordered him out of the house. It was only with a magnitude of pleading that she let him stay... just for the night.

So that morning, although humiliated beyond belief, he packed his bags and left the monstrosity of a mansion. It was only when he reached his car that he realized he had nowhere to go.

He couldn't go to Frasier's, although he was sure he'd be welcomed with open arms. But Daphne was there. She was always commenting on how lucky his wife was to have him; how he was always there for her... words that warmed his heart. But what would she think of him if she knew that he'd managed to get kicked out of his own home?

So, since Frasier's was out of the question, he was forced to spend his nights in a moderate hotel. Sure, he could have picked the Four Seasons but he was a fixture there. He simply couldn't show his face without launching into a lengthy explanation and he compromised by checking into a hotel where rooms cost little more than a modest bottle of champagne-under an assumed name.

As he handed the cash to the friendly front desk receptionist he felt as though he were an escaped criminal who was trying desperately not to be discovered.

But he couldn't let his secret be known. So he continued to go to work daily and had his calls forwarded to his cell phone. But it was lying to his family (and ultimately to Daphne) that hurt him most of all.