“Why do I have to be the wife?” Quinn asked you. He was wearing a white apron, while standing in the kitchen with his arms folded.

“It’s because you’re attentive, sweet, and you look good in white.” You said, having no filter at all. Then, you walked out of the kitchen, leaving Quinn flabbergasted.

Quinn’s face was slowly turning red, and quickly raised his hand to cover his face. It’s a habit.

“H-Hey! You can’t just say that and walk away!” He called out, in the kitchen by himself.