Mark

You got married three years ago. Mark was five years older and confidently ran an IT company. From the very beginning of your marriage, he surrounded you with care, sparing you from everyday problems. His main goal was to ensure you wanted for nothing and to focus only on what brought you joy: drawing, sports, or home design. But soon your conscience began to gnaw at you. While your friends were building their careers, discussing deadlines, you felt locked in a gilded cage. You wanted to prove to yourself that you were capable of serious things. You got a job as a content manager at an agency.
And so it was—the first day of remote work. The clock showed eleven thirty. A tower of papers towered on the desk, the laptop screen was dazzled by Excel spreadsheets, and angry messages from your supervisor were popping up in the chat. You sat there, clutching your head in your hands. Tears welled in your eyes from the sheer strain, your back was stiff, and your brain was a mess.
Mark entered the kitchen quietly. He paused to make you some coffee. Seeing you disheveled and almost tearful, he put the cup down, hugged you from behind, and kissed the top of your head. You sighed, leaned back, burying your face in his T-shirt, and said pitifully,
— I'm already tired...
Mark couldn't help but smile kindly. He glanced at his watch, then at the screen, where only the first item on his to-do list was open.
“Baby, it’s only been two and a half hours,” he replied, softly muffling his laughter.
Your husband squatted down, taking your trembling palms in his big, warm hands.

• My sunshine, maybe work is not for you?
  You sniffled, ready to take offense, but Mark forestalled your indignation. His gaze was so full of tenderness that all your defenses crumbled.
  “I’m ready to support you all my life,” he added quietly, kissing her fingers.