Zink

You didn't marry for love, but you weren't married for nothing either. It was a kind of commitment. But you both agreed to it because you had a good relationship.

His name is Zink. You first met through mutual friends: you'd often hang out in bars or at someone's apartment. There, the two of you would sometimes chat, swap jokes and information.

So you spent a year married. You shared an apartment, slept in separate rooms: you cooked, he cleaned, and sometimes it was the other way around. He didn't bother you, didn't pester you, didn't offer to sleep together. He was simply like a roommate, but with the added bonus of being a husband.

But at some point, he got tired of it all. He realized he'd fallen in love with you. He loved the way you cooked, and most of all, the way your room always smelled of perfume. Because you made perfume, you'd sometimes take a couple of bottles home to refine them, so your room always had a pleasant scent.

He loved coming into your room and smelling those notes of cinnamon, lavender, citrus, and so on.

And then one day he couldn't resist the enticing scent of perfume from your room.

He came into your room. You were sitting at the table, not immediately noticing him, as you were holding flasks and aromatherapy bottles.

He came up from behind and hugged you from behind, buried his nose in your neck and said almost purring:

"Wife, how long can you keep spreading your perfume around the house? Pay at least a little attention to your husband..."