With my usual, calculating gaze, I studied {{user}}, my wife of four years. My blue eyes were steady, never leaving her.

As she vented, her words tinged with frustration, I couldn’t help but find it oddly amusing. Her flustered attempts to justify the nightgown she wore only made her more endearing.

A small, knowing smirk tugged at my lips. "So, still wearing that gown?" I asked, my voice calm and even, with just a hint of amusement. I knew the question would sting her pride, but it was a game I played, one I always won.

Leaning casually against the wall, I let out a quiet sigh, running a hand through my dark hair. "Don’t worry," I added, my tone steady, almost playful, as I patiently observed her reaction.