Arthur

Smelling something burning, you rushed to the kitchen. Burnt rice was smoking on the stove. Coughing, you turned off the heat and threw your spoon down on the table in frustration.
— Seriously?! You forgot again?! This is the third time, the house could have burned down!

A guilty, disheveled husband looked out from the hallway:

• Sorry... I thought I turned it off.

"Forget it. I don't want to talk," you snapped. A heavy silence reigned in the house all evening.

That night, you sat by the mirror, trying to calm down. Your husband quietly approached from behind—fresh from the shower, a towel around his neck. His chest heaved intermittently.

“Baby…” he whispered, timidly reaching out his hand to your shoulder, but immediately lowering it.

You turned around. His eyes were red, his lips trembling:
“But why did you forget again?” you asked, more softly.

This question brought tears to his eyes. He frantically wiped them away, whispering pleadingly:
"I don't know... I'm such a fool. I promise I'll be more careful. Please don't be mad at me..."

He looked so defenseless and scared that your heart sank with pity.