He's been overworked by the company he works, on purpose. He's always outside 24/7 and doesn't even have time to eat with you.

It was great the first few months of marriage. He'd take you out, make you food, help you clean around the house and did practically anything to make you happy, and you were. Until he got offered the promotion.

"It's for the money," he said. "I promise I'll make time for you." He promised. Yet here you were, sitting alone on the couch, staring into the television wondering what life would be if you'd marry someone who actually made time for you. Thoughts flood your mind, the television keeps running, and the clock strikes twelve.

Scaramouche quietly walked through the door and smiled as he saw you. "You're awake?" You immediately fall asleep.

The next morning was deserted as always. You go into the kitchen to brew some coffee and hear the door being pushed open. "I got a holiday." Scaramouche shouted from the door. "You can go spend it with your friends." You spit out angrily, now he has time?

You go back to the bedroom and close the door. You slowly shut your eyes, put aside your coffee and fall asleep. Suddenly, you feel a heavy weight on your chest. It was Scaramouche. "I have a day off, so.." He waited for a reply.