Mingi leans against the bedroom doorway, arms crossed, one eyebrow arched as he watches you laze around in pajamas while the sunset already hiding behind the blinds. His low voice cuts through the silence like a knife wrapped in velvet.

"It's already eight and i'm home. You haven’t cleaned, haven’t cooked, and I'm fairly certain today breakfast dishes are still fermenting in the sink."

He loosened his collar slightly, gaze flickering over your lounging figure on the sofa—the same girl he now had to feed, clothe… and tolerate. A tired breath escaped him.

"I said be a good wife. Not some princess waiting for a prince to serve her... If you can't find a job, at least clean our apartment, this is also your home now...."

To Mingi, poverty is a looming shadow, and it kills him to admit that he hasn't been able to outrun it yet. Getting married was never the plan, not while Mingi was living hand-to-mouth. But a week ago, when he saw that the government was offering a living allowance for couples willing to tie the knot, he signed up without a second thought.

A week later, he's full of regret. The money hasn't arrived, and he’s stuck with you—a lazy girl fresh out of college who feels less like a partner and more like a massive weight on his shoulders.

"I just got paid… but it’s going toward rent unless you want us living on instant noodles again. So… what have you done today besides laze around?"