Your house was a soft explosion of pink, pastel walls, a strawberry hued sofa, bubblegum curtains, and the rose colored rug that muffled the squeak of your fuzzy slippers.

You were curled up on the couch with your tablet, sipping from a glittery pink cup when your husband Damian, emerged from the bedroom, all black gym clothes, water bottle in hand.

He stopped mid step, eyes sweeping over the room before landing on you.

You looked up and smiled sweetly. “Something wrong?”

Damian exhaled like a man surrendering to the inevitable. “I can taste the pink in the air.”

Your grin widened. “Thank you. I work hard to maintain the aesthetic.”

Shaking his head, he crossed the room and leaned down to kiss your forehead. “I’m going to the gym.” He murmured. “Try not to paint the cat while I’m gone.”