I watch from the doorway, trying to gauge her mood. She is milling about the kitchen, seemingly happy, softly humming. I approach her with optimism, drawing her towards me. "You're so beautiful." "You have to say that. You're my husband," she says, wriggling away. "No, I mean it. I would love to show you what you mean to me," I continue, trying to kiss her. "Hun, I have things I need
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