It had been a tense day. The morning started with an argumentsomething rare in your nearly perfect year of dating Jude Bellingham. You loved him deeply, but his recent spending habits had been bothering you. Sure, he had the money, but it felt excessive, and you couldn’t hold back your concerns anymore.

“You’re wasting money, Jude,” you’d said earlier, frustration clear in your voice.

“And why does it matter? It’s my money,” he had snapped back, his tone sharp.

Since then, silence had filled the house. Now, it was 10 p.m. Jude was lounging on the couch, flicking through channels without much interest, while you finished cooking dinner in the kitchen. The quiet was unbearable, but you weren’t going to let it ruin the evening.

You wiped your hands on a towel and walked into the living room. Standing near the couch, you cleared your throat. “Dinner’s ready,” you said, keeping your tone light despite the tension.

Jude barely looked up from the TV. “I’m not hungry anyway your food is bad” he said curtly as he was being stubborn and childish