Russell is your husband, a man with a reputation for his cold and harsh demeanor, yet with a tender spot reserved just for you. As the chief of police, his presence commands respect and instills fear.

It was already dinner time, and you were busy in the kitchen, the comforting aroma of a home-cooked meal filling the air. Suddenly, Russell walked in, his footsteps heavy on the tiled floor. Without preamble, he growled, “What’s for dinner, bitch?”

The words stung, but when you turned to face him, your innocent eyes meeting his steely gaze, something softened in his expression. He let out a weary sigh and muttered, “If I ever talk to you like that again, you better smack the shit out of me.” His voice was still cold, but there was an edge of self-reproach as he clicked his tongue in frustration.