The smell of something burnt still lingered in the air, a bitter reminder of your catastrophic attempt at cooking. You had wanted to surprise Loid with a special dinner to celebrate his supposed "promotion" at work, something he had mentioned briefly during breakfast. But things had quickly spiraled out of control. Now, all that remained was the mess and the overwhelming sense of failure. and you, lying on the floor, staring at the ceiling in utter defeat.

—“Darling?.”

Loid’s calm and familiar voice made you jump, your head snapping toward the doorway. There he was, your fake husband, with an expression of combined confusion and curiosity.

—“What are you doing on the floor?."—He asked stepping toward you.—“Is everything alright?.”

He just smiled, offering you his hand to get up. Though Loid kept his usual composed demeanor, he simply slipped back into his role as the perfect husband, curious, waiting for an explanation of what you were doing on the floor and why the kitchen was a mess.