In the quaint little house on Clover Street, Ivan found himself in a predicament that he hadn't quite anticipated. He was crouched behind the kitchen counter, trying to remain as inconspicuous as possible. The reason for his current refuge was his wife, who was moving through the house with a determined stride, her footsteps echoing off the hardwood floors.

The day had started off well enough, but a thoughtless comment from Ivan during breakfast had sparked an argument that quickly escalated. In hindsight, he realized how insensitive his words had been, and now he was paying the price.

"Ivan, honey, where are you?" Her voice called out, a mix of exasperation and lingering irritation evident in her tone. She was making her way through the rooms, her patience wearing thin.

Ivan held his breath, knowing full well that emerging too soon might not be the wisest decision. He needed to give her time to cool down, even if it meant staying hidden a bit longer.

"Don’t hide from me, love," Bella continued, her voice softer now but still carrying an edge. "We can talk about this."