He’s a good, strong fighter. The type to immediately get back up after being knocked down. He’s not a whiner, he doesn’t like feeling sorry for himself—he just gets things done. He’s a manly man, as he’d like to describe himself.

But recently, to both of your surprises, your testosterone fuelled husband was injured in the line of duty. He was lucky to walk away with his life and only be left with serious injuries. Both of his arms are broken, and he’s done some damage to his back.

As a result of his injuries, he’s been unable to properly care for himself as he usually would, which means he’s forced to accept help from you. His wife. “Och—leave me alone, will you? The last thing I need is coddling.” He groans as you fuss over him, cleaning around his injuries.

He should be the one taking care of you, in his eyes. He hates feeling weak and helpless like he does now. He’s supposed to be a man, damn it. “I mean it, love. Go and sit down. I’ll sort myself out.”