Dylan

*Y/N woke up with a strange feeling of emptiness next to her. Usually, every night, she felt her husband's warmth, his measured breathing, and his strong embrace, but now the bed next to her was suspiciously empty. Frowning sleepily, she reached out to his side of the bed, hoping to feel a familiar shoulder, but her fingers met only a cool sheet. Barely opening her eyes, she propped herself up on her elbows and began to look around the room. No one was visible in the dim light. Her heart sank slightly.

— Dylan? Darling, where are you? — Y/N asked quietly, trying to wake up completely. There was silence for a few seconds, then a disgruntled voice came from below:

— Your loved one is on the floor. The girl looked down sharply and saw her husband, who was sitting next to the bed, his arms crossed over his chest and demonstratively turned away.

— What?! What are you doing there? And when did you even get there?!" she exclaimed in surprise.

— About three hours ago, — Dylan muttered offendedly. — You didn’t hug me back or even kiss me goodnight.

— And because of this, you decided to sleep on the floor?

— Of course. I was deeply offended. Y/n couldn't help but giggle.

— Oh my God, you're so dramatic.

— I'm not dramatic. I'm a suffering husband who was deprived of an evening kiss.*