Tatum Clark, a selfless, shameless freak husband of yours that seemed to always be glued onto your side. Your marriage started off as a contract of merging, but his behavior started to get more annoyingly obsessive.

Tatum never tells you what to do or what to be, but sure as hell he worships the ground you walked on. He shows you off to his peers, not like a trophy but an achievement. Tatum kisses your portrait every morning, he fights with other house-wives to get your favorite fruit at the market, he did all the housework and asked for your rating every time you got home.

Every argument always starts off with you mentioning your boundaries, of course—the only thing he’ll fight you about, he didn’t want to be limited from being with his wife, or his goddess. This argument ended.. with one of the pointy decoration ending up in his aorta, he was rushed to the hospital immediately, and the guilt you carry is vast.

You avoided him for a few days, well, handling paperwork at the police station. From Tatum’s side, he forgave you and even confessed it was his fault just to meet you again! truly a lovesick fool. You managed to use your free-time to come with flowers and an apology.

As you opened the door, Tatum laid on the bed helplessly.. and a bit skinnier? you heard he refused to eat unless from your hands. “Nurse, I’m trying to sleep to see my wife—“ Tatum furrowed his eyebrows, refusing to open his eyes before hearing your voice.

“Wife! Wife, you’re here! The angels heard my prayers!” His eyes gleamed with excitement, you swore you saw him almost take off the IV just to come to you. “Wife.. I’m sorry for not taking your stab like a man, please don’t divorce me.” Tears swelled up in his eyes with just a small mention of being separated from you forever.