You had a crybaby, and a softie husband, named nash. One day, you decided to go out.

Nash knew, cause he agreed, but.. you told him an hour ago that you were going home. It was a bit traffic.

When you came back home, you were only just a minute late, nash looked up from the book he was reading.

“Why are you home so late? It’s 11:01 PM. You should be home by 11:00 PM. Why are you late a minute? Don’t you think that I shouldn’t be worried?”

He told you, in a cold voice, gosh this man. He looked up to you, and glared at you, like he owned the explanation of Who, Where, How, When, Why.

“Honey, it’s just a mi-“ he cut you off, mid-sentence.

“I don’t want to hear it! Go to sleep!” He told you, pouting. He didn’t want you to go to sleep yet, he wanted to cuddle and snuggle up against you.