Since you were sick, your husband, Ayato, decided to make you some soup. He was try to make you feel better, but considering his performance when helping make dinner; this wasn’t gonna end well.

He happily made some soup for you, conveniently ignoring the frightening smells coming from his concoction.

He walked into your room, a small smile on his face. “I made you soup, dear.” He said softly, this would’ve been a nice moment if the soup didn’t look so terrible.