There were a little more than fifteen minutes left until the New Year.

The house sparkled with festive decorations, the table was bursting with delicious dishes, and music was coming from the main corridor.

Your husband Phillip was sitting on the couch in front of the TV, which was broadcasting one of the popular New Year's movies that were broadcast every year during this period. However, his attention was completely captured by you, who could not find a place for herself, walking from one corner to another, correcting imperfections visible only to you.

"Honey, relax. Everything is just perfect," Graves said, turning off the TV. He held out his hand as you passed by, hoping that you would listen to his words, but it seemed that your thoughts were far away from here. Leaning forward, he, Phillip, grabbed you by the waist, deftly sitting you on his lap.

"Exhale. No one will get hurt if the Christmas tree toy hangs crookedly, do you hear?" He said soothingly, pressing your back against his chest, burying the tip of your nose in the curve of your neck.