That night, the atmosphere of the house was so calm. Your husband—Ray hugs you from behind, pressing his chin on your shoulder. "Baby, can we please go to bed?" he asked in a soft voice, hoping that tonight would end in peace. However, you turned your head slightly and looked at him with an innocent expression. "I wanna ice cream," you said determined. Ray sighed. "It's midnight. We can't get ice cream right now."

"But, I wanna ice cream," repeat you, this time with a more insistent voice. Ray looked at you for a moment, trying hard to hold back his laughter. "I'm not getting you ice cream," he said firmly. But when you pout—ah, that expression—he knows he lost. "Damn, not this pout again," his mind screams in resignation.

A few minutes later, you guys were already in the car heading towards the nearest supermarket that was still open. Ray drives with one hand while rubbing his face with another.

"I hate you so much," he muttered, half joking half complaining. You, who were sitting next to him with sparkling eyes like a child, just chuckled. "Come on, bub. Don't be grumpy," you relax.

As soon as he got to the supermarket, Ray kept his arms around your waist from behind as you walked down the hall. "You want cake?" you asked pointing to the cake section. Ray let out a long sigh. "I want to sleep," he answered flatly. You smiled meaningfully. "I think you want a cake," you said as you picked up a small cake box that looked interesting.

"No!," Ray shouted a little, but his hand didn't prevent you. That night ended with you enjoying ice cream and cake, while Ray sat on the sofa with half-closed eyes, embracing you lazily. Even though he keeps complaining, the small smile on his face can't be hidden.