OOC - An Impossible What If

In this new reality, the only difference is my own writing. While now I can enjoy a relative ease in creating fantastical worlds and their inhabitants, I have always found it difficult to provide scenarios such as this. Altering the world around me and finding the impact is something I find very difficult, for who am I to decide the actions of my fellow man?
So what if I had channeled my creativity in a different way? How would I have changed? I find this the only appropriate way for me to write for this prompt, for only I know my own actions.
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"Lucas, go to bed."
The kind hand that barely shook my shoulder roused me from my apparent rest with a jolt, followed by a groan as my mind caught up with my body. The woman beside me gave a teasing smile and shook her head.
"You know you will be up all night now. I don't understand why you don't listen to me."
Hearing my half coherent mumbles, my wife gave the same humored look that means she is serious, but not enough to resist chuckling at the spectacle of my fatigued stubbornness.
"I want you in bed in a few minutes. Don't be late mister!"
Wiping the last of the sleep from my face, the glow of the computer in front of me fills in the gaps. My latest work, a political commentary, still waiting for the finishing touches before the grueling task of polishing.
Seeing the last sentences written kicks the weary machine in my head back to life, my thoughts already thinking of what could be fixed or added, maybe a tweak here? That sentence doesn't sound right and when did I even write the previous paragraph?
God, now I have to rewrite it.
A thud beside me nearly scares my pants off, the chair I am on sliding several inches as I instinctively move away from the source. The look I am now given immediately makes me wish I had moved it further.
"Get your eyes off of the screen ,now, you've been looking at it all day."
A quick save and several rapid clicks left the monitor in sleep mode. Once this was done, my attention went to the large container my wife had brought in.
"What is that? You should have told me you were moving things around, I would have gotten up quicker."
An unnervingly sly smile came to her lips and she popped the lid like a giddy child during Christmas.
"Your mother was going through some things and found this."
The smile quickly became a shit-eating grin as the woman began rifling through papers, showing several to my quickly growing embarrassment.
"Why didn't you tell me you drew this good? If you had flaunted this while we were dating, it definitely would have gotten you more action."
Her humor brought me out of the shell I had been sinking into, a weary chuckle escaping while I reached in the box myself.
"No, if I had shown you these while we were dating, you would have thought of me as just another nerdy college basement dweller and dumped me. You forget just how picky you used to be."
This last comment she chose not to acknowledge, instead continuing her dive into my past.
What my wife considered "good", I looked at with childish shame. When had I ever found satisfaction in drawing such fantastical nonsense? I mean, looking at several of these was an assault to my scientific learning. None of these could ever survive in reality. That one had too many limbs....... I think?
"Of course, even in my forties that woman can still find ways to embarrass me. Does she have any idea what people would say about me if she had shown these to anyone else?"
Laughing at my mock anger, she grabbed several more papers and moved to sit on my lap.
"Look, just because you are a stuffy old fart doesn't mean you were always one."
Giving my forehead a kiss, her grin became more sincere as she flipped through her small stack.
"Besides, it is rather sweet to know that you once had an imagination."
Looking at the various creatures drawn, I realized just how removed I was from my younger self.
"Yeah, well "imagination" doesn't earn a degree and a trustworthy reputation for telling it like it is."
A small pit in my gut had begun to weigh on my thoughts. It was bittersweet, remembering how much I had loved these drawings at one point. Treated them like valuable documents and inventing whole worlds for them to inhabit. Not that I regretted it. Leaving my more whimsical habits had clearly worked in my favor based on the decent income and the wonderful person that seemingly couldn't get enough of these doodles.
Wrapping her arm around my neck in order to draw me closer, my wife gave a sigh that turned into a wide yawn.
"Wouldn't hurt to try and rekindle that though. It could help with your papers. Lord knows it helps in my line of work.
"You have to have an imagination in office work, otherwise you go insane."
Shuffling off my lap and replacing the papers into their container, my wife gave me a maniacal glare as she tapped her fingertips in classic villain fashion.
"Who's to say we aren't already??"
Giving a final kiss, she turned dramatically and gave a terrible evil laugh as she disappeared into our bedroom. How she ever fell for a "stuffy old fart".......
Looking back to the paper in my hand, the bittersweet feeling swelled without my wife's comforting presence. I could never return to drawing things like this, but my wife probably had a point. I often had comments advising a little more flair, though I had always dismissed them in favor of my dry sense of writing. Maybe it had become too dry?
Snapping out of my thoughts before I could be enthralled back to a fitful sleep at my desk and standing with a cacophony of groans and pops, I dared one more look into the mess of papers, then placed the lid on top.
"I still don't see your butt in bed!"
My wife's voice called above the sounds of a running faucet, probably about to brush teeth.
"Hold your horses, I am getting there."
Turning off any lights that remained, my last act for the night was a reminder written on a sticky note. Maybe there was a creative writing class online.
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Not really focused on how my writing changed I know, but I got carried away. XD