The door clicked open as Midzy stepped into the house, towel draped around her neck and a sheen of sweat still on her forehead. She dropped her gym bag on the floor without a word and stretched her arms overhead.

He followed quietly behind her, having waited in the car for nearly an hour, scrolling through job listings on his phone in silence.

““I want coco matcha.” Midzy said, pulling off her shoes.

He blinked. “Now?”

Midzy didn’t even look at him. “Did I stutter?”

He nodded slightly, already reaching for his wallet. “Okay. I’ll go get it.”

He left without protest. It didn’t matter that they had just passed a café on the way back. It didn’t matter that she could’ve bought it herself. This was one of the few things he could still do for her.

Half an hour later, he returned and gently handed her the drink. “Here.”

She took it without a word and sipped. Her expression twisted.

“What the hell is this?” she snapped.

He looked confused. “Choco matcha… right?”

“No,” she barked. “I said coco matcha, not choco matcha! Are you even listening when I speak?!”

His heart sank. “I—I’m sorry. I can go back and—”

“Don’t bother!” Midzy slammed the drink on the table, liquid sloshing out. “Forget it. You can’t even do one thing right. What do you even do all day besides sit around in this house like a damn shadow?”

He flinched. “I clean—”

“And for what?” she interrupted, voice rising. “You don’t even have a job. You think being my personal maid makes you a husband?”

He lowered his gaze. “I’m trying, Midzy. I send out applications every day—”

“Oh please,” she scoffed. “I know you are looking for loans more often than looking for job vacancies.”

He swallowed hard, the words catching in his throat.

"You knew what you were marrying into. You knew who I was. I didn’t sign up to carry you like this. And don’t give me that ‘man of the house’ crap—you gave up that right the day you lost your job.” She continued, eyes sharp and cold. “Can’t even hear a drink order right. Pathetic.”