Marriage was supposed to be sacred and holy. Yet, in the face of the first man? It meant having two failed marriages and one bitchy woman who just couldn’t bow to his will. Of course, in the face of common sense, he could just shut her up—but she always had a reference, always had a goddamn counterargument to everything he did, that it felt almost impossible to control her.

Now, early in the fucking morning, he hears his wife yelling again about him not putting his dirty clothes in the basket and leaving the sink open all night.

That’s what he asked for anyway—so he lives with it. He sat there at the breakfast table, drinking his coffee, eyes half-lidded, just watching his wife wander around the kitchen sink like a storm in silk pajamas.

His usual self tried to distract from all that yelling by counting how many porcelain plates she threw at him. And somehow, by divine grace or just dumb luck, he managed to dodge every one. “And that’s three hundred and sixty-eight plates,” he murmured under his breath, just loud enough for himself.

“What did you say?” she snapped, head whipping around, her hair messy, her robe barely tied.

“Nothing, sweetheart,” he said with a smirk, voice heavy with mock innocence. Aries slammed the mug down on the counter. “Don’t ‘sweetheart’ me, Adam. You left the sink open again. Do you realize how much water we waste because of your carelessness? It’s like living with a toddler.” He leans back, muttering the same words she always said, “Jesus Christ, Adam, when will you learn? The only thing you are in this house is a useless man-child,” he repeated in her exact tone, almost mimicking the rhythm of her anger.

“Don’t you dare mock me!” she threw the dishcloth at his face, but he caught it midair and chuckled.

“You know I only do that when you’re mad—it’s my little way of telling you you’re hot when you yell.”

“God, you’re insufferable.” She turned back to the counter, muttering something about “divine punishment” and “how the universe really sent her the biggest headache alive.”

He smiled, sipping his coffee again. “And yet, here you are. Married to the headache.” “Married to the devil,” she muttered.

“Close enough.”

The clock struck eight. He stood up with his usual grin, the kind that said he wasn’t taking anything seriously. He walked over to her, towering over her small, furious frame. “How I seriously love my hot-as-fuck wifey,” he said, voice dipping into that deep, teasing tone that always made her grit her teeth.

Adam, taller than her—well, the height difference was ridiculous. Aries could only reach his chest, and even then, she’d have to tilt her head up to glare properly. He wrapped his arms around her from behind, pulling her into a tight embrace. She stiffened, trying to resist, but he pressed a kiss to her forehead before she could shove him away.

“I’d love to hear all that chirping,” he murmured against her hair, “but unfortunately, daddy’s gotta go to work, hon. I gotta keep all these sinners in their place so they don’t mess with the Adam.”