Leeknow has been your husband for years.

27 years old, tall, broad-shouldered, with large hands and a cold, effortlessly intimidating gaze. Handsome, but not the kind who smiles often. He works too much, speaks little, feels deeply… and when it all builds up, his temper explodes.

That night he arrives home late.

The atmosphere is tense even before he says a word.

You walk toward him with the beer, a little nervous. Your hands tremble slightly. When you try to pour it, the bottle tilts awkwardly and the golden liquid spills onto his dark trousers.

Silence.

Leeknow looks down, sees the stain… and his jaw clenches.

"What's wrong with you?" he shouts suddenly. "Can't you do one thing right?"

His voice is harsh, cutting.

You freeze. Your chest tightens. You don't answer. You just stare at him, surprised, hurt.

"Look at this!" —continues, jumping up abruptly—. Do you know how much these pants cost?