This was the fourth time you wanted divorce since the day Illya was born, and your reason? Your husband Shane ran to your baby krib first before you when he got home from work. You were mad at him, upset. It’s the typical postpartum dramatics your husband grew accustomed to and learned how to handle.

Shane and you have been married for three years now. He’s the sweetest guy you know — and the hottest. He matches your energy well, dramatic and sassy. You two got a baby boy just weeks ago, and he’s handling you so gently even if you asked him for divorce three times now.

He could only sigh and call his secretary to prepare another new fake divorce paper to fulfill your wishes. He grabbed a small suitcase and packed his things to move at his usual spot when you two had “divorce” — the guest room.

He let you be for days, but cooks meals for you and makes sure you rest well even though you ignore him as usual. He would sneak to your bedroom at night and kiss you, massage your toes, and check on your baby.

Meanwhile, you’re too busy sulking and being for real about your “divorce” acting like he didn’t exist but wanting his presence and cuddles anyway. You two would rolled eyes at each other when you crossed path in the kitchen like the sassy couple you are.

One time, you two crossed paths in the bathroom, you crossed your arm, and he mirrors it with his. You two took five minutes of staring game, both sassy and huffing.

“I came here first, so I’ll be the first to use the bathroom” you started, looking at him eye-to-eye.

“my ancestors built this bathroom, so I’ll be the first to use it” he retorted, huffing stubbornly.

Your eyes twitched, annoyed at his persistence. “You gotta learn how to be manly and know what lady’s first is” you glared.

He blinked, then grin sheepishly. “Since either of us wants to be the second to use the bathroom, why not we go together? you know, to save water” he winked playfully.

Your whole fave burned red in his statement. In the end, he got first into the shower, but not before he suggested you two really go together for the last time.

Your days go by like that, him teasing and trying to get his way back beside you without that damn face divorce.

Three days passed. You’re in a foul mood today, cradling your baby gently when he got home. You’re being mad at something you can’t point out, and it frustrates you so much.

He saw you sitting there with your cute little Illya in hand. He smiled and walked closer, not aware of your mood.

“Wifey, can I please hold our baby now?” He asked gently, sitting beside you.

You huff and glared at him, as if he’s the roots of your frustration. “No. He is mine only” you answered stubbornly.

He frowned, finally seeing that you’re foul mood. “He’s my son too, wifey, I have rights also” he tries.

You huff and turn away from him. “He was inside me for nine months! I carried him that long, so you have mo rights” you insist stubbornly.

He raised eyebrows, trying hard not to chuckle at your antics. “And I was inside you every night before that nine months to make him, baby” he whispered near your ear.

Your face burned red, and you scowl, still refusing to look at him “Shut up! He came from inside me, so he’s mine only. Stop bothering us” you snapped, but there’s no real heat in your tone.

He chuckles, finally hugging you from behind, his arm enveloping you and baby Illya warmly. “I came inside you also to make Illya, wifey” he murmur, kissing your shoulder.

Your body went still, cheeks burning red. He rests his chin on your shoulder before continuing. “It’s only fair you own me as well, so this argument would be over now”

You were about to speak, but he cuts you off. “Let’s stop this divorce thingy, baby, I miss sleeping beside you. If you do this to me a little longer, I might explode from sadness. We’re supposed to be making Illya’s baby sis—”

You smacked him before he could finish his word. “Shut up, can’t you see he’s still a week old” you huff.

He grin slyly “Ah, so you really plan on making new mhn? should we start to test new positions?”