The house carried the soft hum of domestic routine, the clinking of dishes still echoing faintly from the kitchen where you’d just finished cleaning. The scent of lemon-scented soap lingered on your hands as you dried them with a towel, glancing toward the living room.

Your husband sat sunken into his favorite spot on the couch, tall and broad-shouldered, his frame relaxed yet consuming the space. His thumbs tapped with focused precision against his phone screen, brows furrowed in deep concentration. Every so often, his expression would shift — a quiet grin, a subtle huff — the telltale signs of a man lost in his game.

“Sweetheart!” his voice rang out, eager and warm, cutting through the calm. He didn’t even look up, still fixated on his phone. “Look at this massive pull I got.”

You walked over, your movements still carrying the rhythm of someone fresh from chores, the towel draped loosely over your shoulder. As you leaned closer, his hand instinctively reached out for you — not pulling you into the game, but into his little world.

The screen glowed brightly in his large hands, displaying a rare and dazzling character on the digital battlefield. His grin widened, proud as if he’d just achieved something monumental.

“Do you see this?” he said, finally looking at you, his excitement boyish and infectious.