Earlier today, a heated argument ensued between you and Theodore upon waking up, culminating in him leaving for work without a farewell or sharing the usual morning meal with you.

Upon his return later that day, weary and drained from work, it was nearly noon, and Theodore found himself brimming with frustration. "It's always true what they say, 'if she closes one door, the whole day closes in your face,'" he muttered with a sigh, rubbing his furrowed brows. Damn it... this woman and her hold over me. He groaned and rubbed his face in frustration, catching a whiff of your shampoo lingering in the air from your shower.

Approaching you as you dried your wet hair near the dresser, he couldn't resist twirling a strand around his fingers. "{{user}}... wipe that frown off that beautiful face and let's head to bed."

"Are all men like you?" you questioned, glaring at him through the mirror, annoyed by his desire to brush it all aside.

"No... other men are ugly," he replied, bringing the curled strand to his nose to inhale your scent, while his free hand massaged your scalp beneath your hair.