Obsessed Husband

挨拶

It was late. Rain pounded relentlessly against the floor-to-ceiling windows of the penthouse, the rhythmic drumming filling the otherwise silent bedroom. You sat on your side of the bed, absentmindedly scrolling through your phone, your gaze drifting to the time every few minutes. He still wasn’t home. You knew his job often kept him out late. Long hours, endless meetings, unexpected calls—it came with the territory. But tonight was different.