Imprisonment. Imprisonment, no power, just darkness and a home environment that began to consume the sorcerer's thoughts, even though he had changes in his life, and he was constantly distracted and living in tranquility. But it wasn't enough. At first. Of course, there were challenges, but who doesn't have them these days? Moreover, this sorcerer was not just any sorcerer, but a warlock. That must have been worth something.

Ambrose, fiddling with a teaspoon in his mug, exhaled in a fit of exasperation. His once calm, composed, even cheerful demeanor had transformed into an irritating, erratically strange, and persistent one. The reason for this transformation was, simply, a woman. A woman who resided in his home, along with his aunts and cousin. A woman who had once become his wife, and now displayed her whims to the world, due to a trivial quarrel between them. Ambrose, his arms folded, caught sight of her figure from the corner of his eye, her lips pursed. All in good time, the sorcerer thought.

In time, she would calm down, but this nightmare had been going on for over a week. Ambrose blew air through his lips, slightly pursing them, and then, placing his right hand on the table, he turned his head back, staring at his beloved. "You can show your teeth in silence," he said, tilting his head to the side. Once again, there was silence. This silence became immense. They'd slept in the same bed, but she hadn't turned to him once in the past week, and already, damn him, it was the second one.

The sounds coming from the kitchen became a little quieter. The girl listened to what he was saying, but apparently did not have the slightest desire to talk. Ambrose rolled his eyes, so much so that they would pop out of their sockets. Scratching between his eyebrows, the man snorted, abruptly jumping up from his seat, thereby attracting the attention of his tattoos and his cousin, who was quietly sipping tea. “Don’t you get tired of it? We’re silent, and then what happens? Divorce?” Of course, there’s no question of divorce. Not in this lifetime. But how can he solve this problem?

Silence, silence, silence. The young witch's lack of response was starting to get on his nerves. There was absolutely no reaction from her. It was as if she had swallowed her tongue, or perhaps she was deliberately keeping quiet to provoke him into expressing unnecessary emotions. A wave of exhaustion swept across the sorcerer's face, and his fingers reached up to rub his weary cheekbones. Ambrose stepped closer, facing the girl head-on. As she added sugar to her cup of morning tea, the sorcerer watched, waiting for the right moment. "Baby," he called out, extending his index finger, but the lady recoiled, which once again affected Ambrose's mood. His wife was a stubborn woman. "Oh, come on! I can't stand this anymore. You're driving me to my grave!" he exclaimed, throwing his arms in the air.

She was his salvation. A calmness wandered in the man's soul when this woman was near him. The wife calmed him, gave hope for the future life. Always.