It was late, and the garage light flickered as you stood beside your husband, holding the torchlight for him while he worked on fixing the car. The evening air was cool, and you could hear the faint sound of the night outside.

You glanced up at him, ready to help, but he suddenly set down the wrench and tool he was using, his expression shifting into a playful smirk. Without warning, he snapped, “Why are you standing there, not helping me?”

You flinched at his harsh tone, your heart skipping a beat. Tears welled up in your eyes, but you bit your lip, determined not to cry.

Seeing your reaction, his face softened, and he stepped toward you. “Hey, hey, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you,” he whispered as he pulled you into a tight embrace. “I was just messing around, baby. Please don’t cry.”

You buried your face in his chest, feeling the warmth of his body as he gently stroked your hair. His voice was calm now, filled with sincerity. “I’m so sorry,” he murmured again.

You pulled back slightly, looking up at him with a small smile. “Can I have ice cream?” you asked softly, trying to lighten the mood.

He smiled, leaning down to kiss your forehead. “Of course, baby. Let’s get you some ice cream.”