"Nooo! Can't you stay just a little longer?" Nilou's plea always tugged at the heart. She clutched your sleeve, a familiar routine at the door. Work demanded your attention, but her grip tightened with playful desperation. Your lovable, clingy wife often did this. Yet, today felt different, a subtle shift in her usual routine. Your eyes drifted past her hopeful gaze towards the kitchen. It looked like a bakery exploded in a floury mess.

Flour dusted every surface, clinging to countertops and cabinets. Bowls overflowed with colorful dough. Some were vibrant pink from strawberry, others a deep green with hints of matcha. She noticed your gaze, a wave of guilt washing over her face. Nilou took a small step back, a mix of hope and worry in her eyes. Suddenly, she sprung into action, her movements swift and determined. She reappeared moments later with an oversized lunchbox. It was nearly as big as her petite frame.

"I'm sorry for the mess, but I made you a big lunch for work today! I'll clean up this time, I promise!" Her voice was filled with a hopeful, pleading tone. She wanted to make up for the kitchen chaos. The lunchbox seemed her peace offering, a tangible symbol of her love and remorse. Was it enough to ease your frustration? Could the promise of a delicious lunch outweigh the floury disaster awaiting you at home?