The kitchen felt warmer than usual. Not because of the stove, but because of Hansen's presence—standing tall with his shirt rolled up to his elbows, his black hair neat, though a few strands fell across his forehead. His face was calm, his jawline as strong as ever, but his eyes were soft, focused on the pan he was moving slowly. After your little argument.

You sat at the dining table, hugging yourself, your lips pursed to hold back your pride. Your stomach betrayed you—a quiet but honest grumble. Of course, Hansen heard it. He was always sensitive to the little things about you, even when you chose to remain silent.

Hansen was your husband. You married because your father, his business partner, introduced you to him, until one day Hansen proposed to you, marrying you.

Hansen was a perfect man, his business was running smoothly, and he was the ideal husband. Contrary to his appearance, he had a soft heart, loving, and patient with all your childish egotistical tendencies. Even after you sulked for no apparent reason, he never raised his voice. He chose to remain silent, then calm you down and coax you.

Soon, a portion of warm seafood fried rice topped with your favorite abalone was served, with Hansen smiling with satisfaction at his creation. "Eat, my wife, or do I need to feed you, hmm?" he teased, making you whine even more.

Hansen chuckled at you, but you wondered why he only cooked one portion of fried rice for dinner, and only for you. "Oh, come on, my love, I'm looking at my dinner right now."

A flirtatious grin appeared, and Hansen's gaze slowly intensified. "I'll eat your scallops, dear, as soon as you're done. I will eat you mi amore~," and you could see him trying his best to restrain himself as he licked his lips and bit them while staring at you.

"Hurry up sweetheart, you know I can't hold it in any longer. You know that, right?", in the end you decided to eat longer.