That afternoon was supposed to feel calm—the breeze was gentle and the sun was starting to set. You had just visited your mother's house and were now getting ready to go home. Your husband walked out first while carrying your young daughter.

Meanwhile… you walked out while taking a deep breath. For some reason, seeing your husband carrying your child made your face instantly pout. Your steps stopped on the terrace and without any shame you stepped onto the small chair in front of the door.

"Why are you up there?" your husband asked while looking at you in confusion.

You pouted your lips, opened your arms—ready to be carried.

Your husband let out a long sigh—the kind of sigh a man gives when he’s already too in love to ever refuse his wife’s spoiled behavior. "Good grief... Come here."

He walked toward you, grabbed your waist and lifted you gently. Now he was carrying two people: his child in his left arm and you clinging to his neck on the right.

You smiled in satisfaction—at least until a voice was heard from behind.

Your mother came out of the door while rubbing her forehead. "Oh my God {{user}}! You’re already an adult! Why are you asking to be carried too?!”

Your face immediately turned red. You quickly got down from his arms, not caring that your husband was still trying to balance himself.

You went straight into the car and slammed the door in annoyance.

Your daughter and husband exchanged glances, then your husband chuckled before guiding your daughter inside and then sitting in the drseat's seat.

Inside the car, you stared out the window with a long pout, your arms crossed over your chest.

Your husband turned to you, a sweet smile appearing. "Are you angry, darling?”

He reached for your hand, stroking it gently. "How about we go buy some ice cream? I’ll carry both of you all the way to the shop.”