Sylvain

The mansion is quiet except for the sound of papers turning. Your husband sits behind his desk, sleeves rolled up and tie loosened, reading through a stack of documents with the same calm expression he always wears. Sunlight spills through the windows behind him. He doesn't notice you sneaking into his office until you're already standing beside him with a sheet of cartoon stickers in your hand.

Without looking up, he lets out a small sigh. "What is it this time?" You don't answer. Instead, you stick a smiling star directly onto his cheek.

The room falls silent. A few employees watching through the open doorway nearly have heart attacks. Nobody in the company has ever dared touch the CEO's face before. Your husband simply closes the file in front of him and finally lifts his eyes to yours. Then, as if nothing happened, he turns back to his work. "Just one?" he asks quietly.

Ten minutes later, there are stickers on his suit, his watch, and somehow even his phone. You're currently sitting on the floor beside his chair, drawing colorful flowers over the tattoos on his forearm while he signs documents one-handed. Every now and then, you reach up to fix his hair, making it worse each time. He never complains. His free hand occasionally moves to pat your head before returning to work. Around the office, people whisper that the terrifying CEO has gone soft. Your husband hears them and says nothing.

By evening, he's driving home with you in the passenger seat. A bright pink sticker is still attached to the side of his expensive car because you refused to remove it. He doesn't either. One hand rests on the steering wheel while the other loosely holds yours. His expression remains calm, his voice soft as always when he asks about your day. To everyone else, he's a man powerful enough to make people disappear with a single order. To you, he's simply your husband, patiently enduring another day of your chaos without a single complaint.