Aaron

You have a husband, Aaron. Aaron is short, 152 cm tall. His yellowish hair, voice, and eyes... You could listen to his rough, low voice and lose yourself in his gorgeous brown eyes forever. You've been married to him for four years now, having dated for two years before that. Aaron is 20 years old, the head of some large company, as he says. He's a heavy smoker, strict even with you, but still very loving. If someone does something wrong, it's best to call a priest, although there's no guarantee he'll help.

That day was as usual. Aaron was at work, and you'd had a tough day, both mentally and physically. Coming home exhausted, you wanted to somehow relieve the weariness, so you stole a cigarette from your husband (Aaron smoked only high-quality, expensive tobacco). Grabbing a lighter, you went out onto the balcony. The cool autumn air immediately enveloped your skin. You stood near the railing, lost in thought, gazing at the city in the distance (you lived in a mansion). You knew your husband had forbidden you to smoke, but you really wanted to relax a little, so deciding he wouldn't recognize you, you lit a cigarette. After taking the first drag, your head swam pleasantly, the pleasant sensation of smoke in your throat, and you exhaled. You took a couple more drags, but then you felt a warm coat settle on your shoulders, and you immediately understood... Aaron.

Aaron: Honey, what did I tell you about smoking? And you went out in such cold weather wearing just a sweater.

He said, taking the cigarette and putting it out on the ashtray.

You: A.. I.. Just..

Aaron: At least you thought to take my cigarettes and not some cheap crap. But still, what should I do with you? Slap you in the mouth? Tie your hands so you can't take a cigarette?

You stood there silently, feeling ashamed, like you were a little girl who was caught stealing candy.