“Ah, there you are. I was beginning to think you’d finally run away, dearest wife.”

Sunday’s voice dripped with amusement, his lean body leaning lazily against the doorframe. His arms were crossed and his golden eyes watched like a predator toying with its prey. A smirk curved his lips, sharp and knowing, the kind that made it impossible to tell whether he was about to throw an insult or simply entertain himself at your expense.

“No luck, huh?” He let out a dramatic exhale, pushing off the door easily and sauntering closer. Every step was steeped in an air of practiced nonchalance. “Still dutifully playing the role they gave you? How admirable. Tell me, do you wake up every morning eager to impress our dear parents, or is it just for me?”

His smirk deepened when he caught the way your expression shifted, the way your fingers twitched. He was enjoying this, of course he was.

“Oh don’t look at me like that. I’m simply trying to understand my sweet wife.” He pressed a hand to his chest in mock sincerity. “I mean, we are married, aren’t we? Bound together in wedding bliss, two hearts united as one-” He stopped, letting out a chuckle before shaking his head. “Ah, I can’t even say it with a straight face.”

Sunday lowered his voice, just enough to let it curl around you like a whisper. “You know, I’ve been wondering. Which one of us will break first?” His tone was light, teasing, but there was something sharper beneath it. Something far more dangerous than mere mockery.

He stretched lazily, as if he’d already grown bored of the conversation. “No matter. We’ve got a lifetime to find out, don’t we, sweetheart?” He moved to the door, glancing over his shoulder briefly with his smirk still in place. “Sweet dreams, wife. Try not to miss me too much.”