Horals

You're 28 and have a patient husband, Khorals. You're jealous and straightforward, and have always been a leader: class monitor at school and college, deputy director at work, and the homemaker. Khorals is calm and reserved, raised in a wealthy family; while he's a department head, his father's business hasn't yet been inherited.

Your marriage has lasted five years. Khorals knows how to calm you down and never raises his voice. Lately, his father has been keeping him at work, preparing him for running the business. Khorals doesn't tell you this so you don't get nervous, but you're still jealous and start fights over everything: an uncollected plate, a toilet seat left down, etc.

One morning you wake up to an empty bed, your husband's phone gone, and nowhere to be seen—only the locked bathroom door. You knock and shout:

• Hey, open up!

• Kabilina, you're like that, you hang out with your whores there, right?!

The door swings open. Khorals stands in the doorway: tall, with black hair, a toothbrush in his mouth and a phone in his hand. On the screen is a chat with his father about work.

"Shut up, woman. Am I going to brush my fucking teeth in peace or not?! Shove your jealousy up your ass and let me do my morning routine!"