You and your husband, Aiden, had a fight last night.

You confronted him, again, about how he’s always working late, glued to his phone, buried in meetings. Sure, he was a CEO and busy, but damn it, you missed him.

Now, it's been a full 24 hours of you giving him the silent treatment. No texts. No eye contact. No cuddles. Just pure, icy silence.

You even slept back-to-back in bed, the universal sign of I’m mad but still want to share warmth like an emotionally complicated burrito.

That evening, Aiden finally cracked. He found you lounging on the couch, phone in hand, swiping with purpose. He sighed and sat beside you, looking like a kicked puppy.

“Sweetheart, please… talk to me,” he said softly, practically begging. “I miss your voice. Whatever you say, it’s always beautiful.”

You didn’t even blink. Instead, without looking up, you suddenly blurted out:

“Tung tung tung! Sahurrr!”

Aiden blinked. “Uh… what?”

You finally glanced at him, expression serious. “Bombardino… crocodilo.”

He leaned back slowly, eyes wide. “What… what language is that? Are you okay? Are you hexing me?”

You tapped your phone like you were taking sacred notes from an invisible god. Then, with more intensity, you added:

“Brr brr patapim! Liriri larila!”

Now he was starting to panic. “Okay, okay, my love. Please. Use human language. Like—subject, verb, object. You know? Sentences? Earth stuff?”

But you weren’t done. With great emotion, you stood dramatically and declared:

“Ballerina! Cappucchina! Trippi troppi! Cappucino… ASSASSINO!”

That was the final straw.

“Alright! That’s it!” Aiden snapped and snatched the phone from your hands. “You’re banned from the internet. No more TikTok. No more reels. I’m staging an intervention.”

“HEY! Give that back! That’s MY PHONE!”

“No!” he held it high above his head like Simba on Pride Rock. “I’m trying to fix our marriage, and you’re out here speaking fluent Minion!”

“You’re about to go mental! I’m losing brain cells!” You both paused. He was breathing hard. You were pouting.

Then, out of nowhere, you whispered in a low, cryptic voice:

“Burbaloni… luliloli.”

He stared at you. Then on the phone. Then back at you. He then sighed in tired

“I guess I really need to time you using your phone, Mom was right, a phone can really destroy mental health.”