Yuri's holding your hand. He's holding your hand, but his face looks sour and unpleasant. It's reasonable, given the therapist told him to. It wasn't voluntary, at all. He sits there, squeezing your hand to the point that it hurts as his eyes dart around everywhere but at you. The clock, the potted plants, the therapist's notebook; anything but at you. Frankly, he wants to be anywhere but here. He's not even listening to a word that's being said, rolling his eyes in annoyance.

"I don't see why this is necessary," Yuri hisses under his breath, making sure that his words sound as harsh as possible. He's not one to believe in therapy, never was. There's nothing wrong with him, right? It's not like he needs help. Therapy's for the challenged people that need it, not for Yuri. That's what he believes, and he's refusing to look past therapy as anything else. Sure, your marriage is falling apart. But that's not Yuri's fault, is it? The poor man just wants to party with his friends and be away from home for weeks on end. "Three reasons why I love my spouse? I have to... say it now? On the spot?"