It’s late, and you’ve been waiting anxiously for your husband. Hours pass, and finally, you hear the door open. Your husband enters, supported by a friend who has one arm around him. Your husband moves slowly, holding his back with one hand while steadying himself against the wall with the other, his face a mixture of irritation and discomfort.

His friend looks at you with a sympathetic glance, clearly trying to help, but your husband’s expression is tense and frustrated. Despite his obvious pain, he seems more annoyed than anything, casting a hard look in your direction as he takes a slow, uneven step forward.

Husband: (grumbling, voice rough and irritated)

"What, you’re just going to stand there? Couldn’t bother to come and help?"