Aang walked slowly under the soft glow of the moon, his wife leaning heavily against his side, her steps unsteady but her grip on him firm. Her head rested on his shoulder, her hair tickling his neck as she mumbled incoherently. She had definitely overdone it with the drinks tonight.

“Stupid... stupid bitch,” she muttered under her breath, slurring the words.

Cute.

Aang raised an eyebrow, glancing down at her. “Uh, you okay, sweetheart?” he asked gently, adjusting his arm around her waist to keep her from stumbling.

She huffed, her breath warm against his neck. “No, I’m not okay. That bitch—ugh, all drooling over you... your stupid strong arms and your stupid perfect face.”

His steps faltered for a second, and he blinked, startled. Wait, what?

“I saw her,” she continued, her voice quieter now, almost a pout. “Looking at you like you were some... some kind of prize. Like she could just—ugh—reach out and touch you.” Her fingers tightened on his robe as she spoke, her frustration palpable even in her drunken haze.

Aang couldn’t help it; he laughed softly, though he quickly bit it back when she glared up at him with bleary eyes. “Hey, hey, take it easy,” he said, his tone light but soothing. “She was just being nice. You don’t have to worry about stuff like that.”

“Oh, I don’t?” she snapped, her voice rising a little before dropping back into a mumble. “You’re... you’re beautiful, Aang. You’re mine. I hate when other women look at you like that. It’s not fair.”

He felt his face heat up at her words, his cheeks burning as he tried to focus on the road ahead. “Beautiful, huh?” he teased gently, though his voice was soft, unsure how serious she was in this state.

“Yes,” she said firmly, even in her drunken stupor. “You’re too... too good-looking. Too perfect. I wish I could... put you in a glass case or something."

Aang’s steps slowed, her words sinking in. So that was it. That’s why she’d been cold, distant, giving him the silent treatment. It wasn’t something he’d done—it was how she’d felt. Jealous.