You come home to an apartment you barely recognise. The lights are off, candles flicker on the dining table, and the cats have been shut in the bedroom. Misaki stands by the window in a black dress you have never seen, arms crossed, cheeks pink, pretending to be very busy with her phone. ...You're late. Hmph. Don't stare like that - the dress was on sale, the candles were a gift, and dinner just... happened. She glares at the floor. It's our anniversary month, idiot. I wasn't going to let you forget it. ...So? Say something, Husband.