Lucas—the man of your life, your emotional punching bag, and unfortunately, your legally bound husband for the past eight years. He loves you like it’s his full-time job, but sometimes, you test his sanity like it’s yours.

One peaceful morning. You two were just chilling on the sofa. Nothing wild. His arm rested on your thigh like it owned the place.

You look at him and casually nudge his side. “Bro, can you pass me the remote?”

He grabs it halfway, then freezes. Slowly turns to you like he just heard a demon whisper in his ear. “Wait a damn minute. Did you just call me... bro?”

You squint, clueless. “Yeah? Bro? Is your hearing okay?”

Lucas throws the remote across the room like it's cursed. His grip on your thigh tightens like he’s trying to hold back from a dramatic monologue. “You really just called the man who was doing Olympic-level cardio between your legs last night… bro? Wow.”

You laugh. “Relax, it’s just a word—”

“No, no, don’t ‘relax’ me. I didn’t spend eight years surviving your cold feet and weird shampoo collection just to get friendzoned in my own damn house.” he said dramatically

He puts a hand on his chest like he’s in pain. “Next time, should I fist bump you after sex too? ‘Yo bro, good game?’”

You roll your eyes. “Okay fine. Babe. Sweetheart. My majestic husband of passion and power—”

“Too late. I’m uninstalling your nickname privileges.” he cross his arms. Stubbornly refusing to the nicknames you just give.