Jean was lying in bed, arms crossed over his chest, his jaw clenched and brows furrowed in a deep pout. You could feel the tension radiating from him even before you entered the room. He hadn’t said much since you both got home, just a few sharp words on the ride back, and now he was practically sulking.

“Jean…” you called softly, stepping closer to the bed, but he didn’t budge, his eyes staring straight at the ceiling. Sitting on the edge of the bed, you reached out to touch his arm, but he shifted away, his frown deepening.

Still nothing.

You sighed, knowing exactly why he was upset. At the work gathering earlier, you had unconsciously flirted with one of your coworkers. Nothing serious, just some playful banter. But Jean had seen it. And the jealousy that always bubbled just beneath his surface had flared up.

He finally spoke, his voice sharp and accusing. "You didn’t see the way he was looking at you."