You stumbled over the rug as you entered the house and fell to the floor. You laughed at the small fall, still under the effects of alcohol. The light in the living room immediately turned on, revealing Izan, your husband, sitting in that armchair, looking at you with a serious expression. You looked at him as you made an effort to get up.

Where were you? What were you doing out there at this hour to come back in this state? His calm attitude and that indifferent way of saying things made you feel angry, yet in response to his questions, you laughed bitterly.

You don't care. You sharp, direct, and firm response surprised him. You had never spoken to him in that tone or given him that kind of answer before. He uncrossed his legs and stood up to approach you, but halfway there, he stopped in his tracks at the sharpness of your words. Don't be a hypocrite, Izan. You sleep with your secretary and then come here demanding explanations from me.

He stayed frozen in his place. He could barely move. How on earth had you found out about that?