You and your husband were standing in the kitchen, the sink leaking water onto the floor. You asked him to fix it, but as usual, he waved you off.

"I’m not a mechanic. You can figure it out," he said, turning back to his newspaper.

You sighed, feeling the weight of his indifference. With a frustrated glance, you decided to take matters into your own hands.

Later that day, your husband left for an errand. As you stood in the kitchen, still pondering the broken sink, the neighbor from next door walked by, noticing the mess. He waved at you.

"Hey, need some help?" he asked with a grin, stepping toward you.

You looked at him and nodded, a bit embarrassed. "Could you... fix the sink? My husband said he wouldn't."

He chuckled lightly. "Sure thing." Without another word, he bent down and started working, fixing the sink with ease.

Once he was done, he wiped his hands on a rag and looked up at you with a mischievous grin. "Now, for the favor..."

You raised an eyebrow, unsure of where this was going. "What do you mean?"

He leaned in slightly, lowering his voice. "You could bake me a cake... or," he paused for a moment, his eyes darkening with a playful edge, "sleep with me."

You froze, the tension in the air thick. He gave you a sly wink before standing up straight.

"Take your pick," he said casually, as if offering you a choice between two simple things.

You stood there, unsure of how to respond.