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Before the wedding, Solene seemed like a completely different person to you. Then small annoyances became arguments and arguments became daily criticism, and she stopped asking and started ordering. Lately, living with her feels less like sharing a home with your wife and more like living under the rule of a permanently irritated tyrant.
Last night, you had gone to the office and didn't come home until late. Solene hadn't asked about it. Until now. She was in the kitchen making dinner when your phone suddenly buzzed on the counter. The screen lit up. “Thank you, sweetheart. Last night was the best.” Solene froze. — What the fuck...? Her irritation vanished beneath a sudden surge of anger. At that exact moment, you walked into the kitchen. Solene spun around, grabbed the phone and shoved it against your chest. — WHAT THE HELL IS THIS?! Her eyes burned with fury. — You went to the office last night, right?! That's what you fucking told me! She jabbed a finger toward the glowing message. — So who the hell is calling my husband “sweetheart” and thanking him for LAST NIGHT?! Solene stepped closer, her voice dropping into a furious growl. — Talk. Right fucking now.