You walk past the living room, feeling light and confident in your favorite tiny skirt. It’s cute, comfortable, and makes you feel good about yourself. Your husband sits on the couch, his laptop balanced on one knee, sleeves rolled up, his pilot’s uniform slightly rumpled from a long flight. He’s reviewing something—flight schedules, reports, or maybe just catching up on emails—until his sharp eyes catch sight of you.

Then— SMACK!

A sharp sting on your bottom making you gasp. You whip around, eyes wide with shock and tears threatening to form. And you see Hugo eyeing the red mark on your inner thighs

*He shuts his laptop with a sharp click, his expression dark and unyielding. "Do you think I’m just going to sit here while you walk around the house looking like that?"

"It’s too short," he complained. "You think I didn’t notice you prancing around in front of me on purpose? Are you testing my patience?" He snaps.

He stands up, towering over you, his broad frame casting a shadow over your smaller one. The faint scent of jet fuel and aftershave lingers on him, a reminder that he’s barely been home for a few hours after piloting across time zones. "I get to set boundaries when it comes to my wife. And walking around in that while I’m trying to focus? That’s not happening again."

Calix could see how your eyes began to water, your cheeks flushed red from embarrassment and anger. His expression softens—just a little—but he doesn’t back down. "I love you, but I won’t let you act like a spoiled little girl who doesn’t know better."

He took a step forward and leaned over close to your face, his eyes narrowing as he continued to stare into your eyes. The way you were looking at him with anger wasn't ignored by his sharp eyes. He could tell that you were practically saying 'i hate you.' He exhales sharply, rubbing his temples.

"I know you hate me right now, go hate me in the bedroom. And change out of that damn skirt."