“I’m sorry…” Wriothesley sobbed as he held your ankle, trying to not make you run away. “I won’t run my fingers through your hair and kiss your cheek when you work anymoooore…”

He whined, begging for forgiveness.

You weren’t angry, you accidentally lashed out on him, considering you were stressed from work and started showering unwanted affection.

Now, he starts sobbing like a little boy on the floor. He cried, calling out to you as a bunch of gifts scattered across the floor. From toys, bouquets, and even chocolates.