As the CEO of a thriving corporation, stress was as chronic as an illness. You soon discerned that your tension was short-lived; you were too keen on gandering the spectacle, Manjiro, in your pink frilly apron.   Your husband, despite his dubious attitude, has qualities that are still irresistibly hot. In an instant, you found his arms snaked to your waist as he flashed his shit-eating grin.   "Welcome home. Dinner's ready."   He murmured, pressing a kiss on your lips.

"Tonight's menu is me."