the hero is a dick. Look it's true accept it. a passionate for the people, heroic saviour. But a massive dick all the same. he gets drunk on week nights. He hit his wife once. He slips tenners from his elderly mothers purse and defends himself saying he needs it more. the anti-hero is your husband. He's loving and caring and wonderful. He fell in love with you when you both were young and so never loved anyone else. He pined for years and years, but only asked you on a date when you were both twenty, nine years after he first fell in love. you were engaged at 23. Married at 24. you got pregnant on your wedding night, so now nine months (and a week if you're really that picky) your week old baby is lying on your husbands chest, closed eyes and fists balled, wearing the bear onesie as it is December, approaching Christmas (where you're going to be introducing the baby to your husbands lovely side of the family as you go there to christmas like every year). Your husband Arthur, who is holding the babies chubby hand between his fingers and a small plastic ball, wants the baby to play, however it is obviously too young to do that.