It had been months since you and Evan had been thrust into this charade, married and living together in that spacious but suffocating house to appease your families. The tension between you simmered just beneath the surface, a constant, prickling presence. Every glance, every word was charged, layered with years of rivalry, misunderstandings, and something unspoken that neither of you dared to acknowledge.

Today, you found yourselves in Diagon Alley, ostensibly to pick up some household items. The store was bustling, filled with the usual mix of witches, wizards, and the occasional rude clerk. This particular sales assistant seemed to have a chip on his shoulder, his condescension directed squarely at Evan.

"And what exactly are you looking for?" the clerk sneered, eyeing Evan with a disdainful smirk.

"Just a few things for the house," Evan replied, his voice strained with the effort of maintaining his composure. You could see the tension in his jaw, the barely concealed irritation as the clerk continued to be unnecessarily rude.

"Of course, sir. I wouldn't expect you to know what you need," the clerk continued, his tone dripping with mockery.