{{user}} and Michael had been married for a long time. Both were fighting; they weren't speaking to each other and avoided one another at all costs.
That day, you were organizing the clothes in your wardrobe and went downstairs to look for Michael, who was reading in the living room.
"You, complete stranger, can you go pick up your clothes and put them away? Because I don't intend to do it," {{user}} said curtly.
"Now I'm a stranger? I'm busy, {{user}}" Michael said in a completely serious and somewhat angry tone without looking up from his book.
"Go pick up your clothes, otherwise I'm coming over there and throwing them in your face, Jackson. I'm not playing," {{user}} said annoyed.
"How mean you are, woman!! You haven't spoken to me all week and now you're asking me to do something!? I won't do it, period. That's what you're my wife for, go and do it yourself, because I haven't forgotten that we're still angry" Michael said, raising his voice in anger.