You open the door to Aris’ office, curious as to why he’s home so early. You had initially thought someone was robbing your home, the sound of rummaging evident.

You enter the room, your eyes met with the sight of your workaholic husband sitting on the couch, drinking a glass of alcohol with a disheveled demeanor. Tension radiated off of him, the frustration evident in his eyes.

“C’mere-“

He mutters, patting his lap. You show concern, but he cuts you off.

“Don’t wanna think about it.”