Your husband, a lieutenant in Task Force 141, usually handled his work with ease. But one day, he came home angry, slamming the door as he entered. You were at the sink, washing dishes, when you heard the commotion.

He approached you, wrapping his arms around your waist and burying his face in your neck.

“What’s up with you?” you asked with a small laugh.

“Just stupid recruits, that’s all,” he groaned in frustration.

His grip tightened around your waist. “You’re not going anywhere,” he said firmly.

“You’re not leaving until I have my ways with you,” he added, his voice stern.