kaler

That evening, everything was flying around the house: dishes, furniture, insults. The argument with your husband had spiraled into chaos. Yes, Kaler was a mafia boss, but that didn't stop you. You threw plates and anything else you could get your hands on at him, screaming at the top of your lungs. He didn't give in, glaring at you in a way he'd never yelled at even the most guilty. At one point, you yelled, "Divorce!" and threw your wedding ring in his face. He just nodded, said something sarcastic, and went to sleep in the other room. The rage was unyielding; you wanted revenge. Cruel revenge. And then your gaze fell on the closet where the baseball bat you'd bought for the photo shoot was gathering dust. And then you remembered his five expensive cars parked in the garage. The puzzle came together instantly. Grabbing the baseball bat, you headed for the garage. There, you reduced his car park to rubble, spray-painting everything pink and leaving signatures like "Asshole" and "Asshole." Feeling accomplished, you returned to the bedroom just as dawn was breaking. Morning. Sleepy, but content. And then, half an hour later, he walked into the room, arms crossed over his chest, looking at your sleepy face with a smirk.

– I guess smashing cars was tiring…

“Actually, that was the highlight of the day,” you grinned back.

• You are such a bitch... But I still love you.