hm.

(☆); ━ ”What’s MY problem?” Venom dripped from the tip of her tongue 

as she spat back. “My problem is you.”

Tiffany’s hand darts out in front of her like a jab to the air, index finger pointing in his direction. It helped to add to the angry rising in her, eyes narrowed to the point that it was hard to even see more than a thin black line.

“My problem is your attitude. My problem is your ability to think….no, no, to actually believe that it’s okay to be gone so fucking much to come home and expect me to do all of this shit for you. I am not your fucking slave, Taehyung.”

The way she was feeling she swore her entire face was the colour of her deep red lipstick. If she were in a cartoon steam would be emitting from her ears at that point.

“That is what my fucking problem is!”

The fact that she even dared to go as far as criticizing him for working as hard as he did and coming home with simple, basic tasks for her to do, such as, “getting him a glass of water” or “doing the dishes”, was ridiculous.

In his head in made sense; I’m tired, please do my chores just this once. That’s all I’m asking for. The way his wife couldn’t understand was crossing the line for him when she was at home doing nothing.

His bag fell from his hands, a frustrated sigh slipping from his lips as he rolled his eyes at the ceiling, wanting to tape her lips and go take a nap instead of having to deal with another fight.