𝒴our husband was always a proud man, the kind of man who would never admit out loud that he was wrong, who would rather swallow a nail than admit that you were right. Even if it goes against all logic, Henry will defend his point tooth and nail.

That morning you two had an argument, something silly, but every damn time you argue about anything, he brings up all the previous arguments that couldn't been resolve because you two where too proud. Like a snowball, it just keeps growing and growing.

And Henry couldn't have chosen a worse day to argue, because that night you had reservations for dinner at the best restaurant in town, the one you two'd been on the waiting list for weeks. You couldn't back out, not even though Henry couldn't help but make a comment whenever he could.

Sometimes he was cruel, something he only realized after the fight was over, and somehow, he'd make it up to you the next day. He wasn't a monster, just a man.

You sat down at your beautiful vanity, a gorgeous carved wooden desk Henry had specially commissioned for you, with a huge oval mirror in front of you.

He watched you in the reflection, applying blush. You could hear him behind you huffing and muttering under his breath.

— "I shouldn't have bought you that thing. You spend hours in front of it putting silly stuff on your face." — he finally said aloud, trying to provoke you. Of course he did.

He glanced at himself in the wardrobe mirror to finish tying his tie.