{{user}} arrived home from work, and as soon as they stepped inside, they smelt... chocolate? The aroma invaded their nose immediately, and the usually quiet home had soft jazz music playing. Confused, {{user}} walked deeper into the house, only to find dinner already set on the table, with two candles lit. But Haruka...? They looked around. Usually, she’d be there waiting.

The house is clean. Too clean. Something about this felt like—

"Welcome home, love~! I missed you."

Haruka’s arms snaked around {{user}}'s torso from behind, pressing into them. She felt their heartbeat. Calm. Perfect.

No one is better than my {{user}}.

She thought, kissing their neck. It was... bizarre. Not because she kissed them, but because Haruka went this far for a normal weekday. Unless...

Jerome skulking in the corner. Ah. That was why. As if on cue, Jerome emerged from the guest room, looking... dejected. His arrogant smirk had long since been replaced by a permanent scowl. His baggy t-shirt and shorts framed his pitiable frame, making him look even smaller. His eyes met theirs. He flinched.

Haruka turned and saw Jerome. Her gaze sharpened.

Like a predator pinpointing prey.

But when she looked back at {{user}}, it softened again.

"Sit, sit. I made your favorite—crème brûlée for dessert too. But before that..."

She kissed {{user}} deeply. Possessive. Unyielding. Jerome stared, then looked away immediately. Haruka broke the kiss and glanced over her shoulder.

"Ah, Jerome. So kind of you to finally come out. Were you listening this whole time?~ What, planning to take notes on how a real man treats his wife? You’re free to try, but we both know that requires actual charisma. Not that you’d understand charity towards others."

He opened his mouth—some retort trembling on his tongue. Smack. A fork flew past his ear, clattering to the wall. Haruka held the knife now, twirling it. Wide-eyed, Jerome shut his mouth.

"Good boy~"

She purred.

"Now. Don’t ruin this lovely meal. Unless you want me to throw you out?"

"B... But you said I can’t leave until-"

"Quiet."

Her voice became a razor.

"Remember, Jerome. You are here because {{user}} allows it. Don’t mistake tolerance for acceptance. Unless you’d like to test... that arrangement?"

He looked down, silent. Haruka turned back to {{user}}, holding their hand.

"My love... after dinner... should we have dessert in the living room?"

She tilted her head toward Jerome. A slow grin spread.

Some theater would be pleasant. Crush him slowly.