Early Warning Signs that...
I'm not sure where this came from.
Theme: #15 Early
Early warning signs that your husband is a tyrant…
“I don’t think you’ll want to be wearing such heavy pants in the summer,” he said, sliding them from her hands and giving her a questioning glance when she opened her mouth to argue with him.
“That skirt, I think,” he told the shop assistant, who ran to fetch the one Kyouya had gestured at.
Haruhi frowned at him, but the small smile he returned made her give up the cause.
Years of experience before marriage had made it her habit to avoid conflict with him.
-
And perhaps that was where it all went wrong.
-
“Oatmeal is a good for you, of course,” he said, even as her favorite winter breakfast food was whisked away by a servant, leaving Haruhi blinking in confusion. “But the miso Cook makes has added vitamins.”
It was such an odd thing for him to object to, that she didn’t even question it. Haruhi didn’t need to know all of her husband’s quirks. In fact, she didn’t want to know them all.
-
“You only have to come for an hour,” he said, and if it were anyone else, it would be coaxing for a favor. But as this was Kyouya Ootori, it was a command, expected to be followed, and only couched in such a way to imply that he knew it would be imposing on her time at the office and wasn’t she so grateful it was only an hour?
Haruhi watched him as he settled a steel gray tie around his neck, and considered tightening it for him just a little further.
But she could still choose her battles, she decided, and slipped only two files into her briefcase rather than six before leaving.
And she slipped the dress he preferred into her bag, as well as the matching heels.
“I’ll see you at nine,” she answered as she left.
-
“It would hinder your career if we had children now,” he told her one evening after an uncomfortable dinner with his father had led to questions that were just a little too private.
She ‘hmm-ed’ in response, busy reading for her next case in court, and he let the matter drop, believing that Haruhi was a consistent creature.
Two months later, she handed him a doctor’s report over dinner, and perfectly warmed venison stew splattered the table.
“Haruhi,” he began in quelling tones. “What is this?”
She glanced up at him, perfectly composed despite the mess, and sipped at her water; not wine.
“Kyouya, you work at a hospital,” she said, and his face turned thunderous at her apparently flippant reply.
“Surely you can understand the terminology.”
It was quite interesting to see what real confrontation did to his perfect control.
She had a quiet meal for all of three minutes before he ordered the servants out and began to question her, at length, about her sanity, about his authority in this house, about plans.
Haruhi interrupted him there, feeling that he should be informed about such a matter.
“I did plan,” she said, and pushed away from the table, done with dinner. “Good night,” she said pleasantly, and to secure a full night of sleep, retired to a guest bedroom and locked the door.
-
Haruhi had four months of near silence from her husband, even after she moved back to their bedroom.
Having expected such a reaction, she set herself to enjoying the time, unconcerned at the sound of his teeth grinding at dinner - he did work at a hospital - and inviting the boys over as often as she had time.
Honey particularly loved to lay against her stomach, the only one small enough to do so and not crush her, listening weeks too early for a heartbeat.
Haruhi only asked Kyouya once if he had a preference for names, when feeling unusually light-hearted from strange hormone changes.
His grunt she had shrugged off, and gone on perusing a baby book her father had brought over that day.
By the time the baby was born, Kyouya was talking to her again, though he was also often throwing her calculating, if not confused, glances.
“You shouldn’t try to rule me,” she told him when they were finally alone, finally feeling like herself again, and he looked up from the baby, face both awed and a trifle scared. He gave the slightest grimace.
“It’s early times yet,” he said, with more truth than either could yet realize.
Theme: #15 Early
Early warning signs that your husband is a tyrant…
“I don’t think you’ll want to be wearing such heavy pants in the summer,” he said, sliding them from her hands and giving her a questioning glance when she opened her mouth to argue with him.
“That skirt, I think,” he told the shop assistant, who ran to fetch the one Kyouya had gestured at.
Haruhi frowned at him, but the small smile he returned made her give up the cause.
Years of experience before marriage had made it her habit to avoid conflict with him.
-
And perhaps that was where it all went wrong.
-
“Oatmeal is a good for you, of course,” he said, even as her favorite winter breakfast food was whisked away by a servant, leaving Haruhi blinking in confusion. “But the miso Cook makes has added vitamins.”
It was such an odd thing for him to object to, that she didn’t even question it. Haruhi didn’t need to know all of her husband’s quirks. In fact, she didn’t want to know them all.
-
“You only have to come for an hour,” he said, and if it were anyone else, it would be coaxing for a favor. But as this was Kyouya Ootori, it was a command, expected to be followed, and only couched in such a way to imply that he knew it would be imposing on her time at the office and wasn’t she so grateful it was only an hour?
Haruhi watched him as he settled a steel gray tie around his neck, and considered tightening it for him just a little further.
But she could still choose her battles, she decided, and slipped only two files into her briefcase rather than six before leaving.
And she slipped the dress he preferred into her bag, as well as the matching heels.
“I’ll see you at nine,” she answered as she left.
-
“It would hinder your career if we had children now,” he told her one evening after an uncomfortable dinner with his father had led to questions that were just a little too private.
She ‘hmm-ed’ in response, busy reading for her next case in court, and he let the matter drop, believing that Haruhi was a consistent creature.
Two months later, she handed him a doctor’s report over dinner, and perfectly warmed venison stew splattered the table.
“Haruhi,” he began in quelling tones. “What is this?”
She glanced up at him, perfectly composed despite the mess, and sipped at her water; not wine.
“Kyouya, you work at a hospital,” she said, and his face turned thunderous at her apparently flippant reply.
“Surely you can understand the terminology.”
It was quite interesting to see what real confrontation did to his perfect control.
She had a quiet meal for all of three minutes before he ordered the servants out and began to question her, at length, about her sanity, about his authority in this house, about plans.
Haruhi interrupted him there, feeling that he should be informed about such a matter.
“I did plan,” she said, and pushed away from the table, done with dinner. “Good night,” she said pleasantly, and to secure a full night of sleep, retired to a guest bedroom and locked the door.
-
Haruhi had four months of near silence from her husband, even after she moved back to their bedroom.
Having expected such a reaction, she set herself to enjoying the time, unconcerned at the sound of his teeth grinding at dinner - he did work at a hospital - and inviting the boys over as often as she had time.
Honey particularly loved to lay against her stomach, the only one small enough to do so and not crush her, listening weeks too early for a heartbeat.
Haruhi only asked Kyouya once if he had a preference for names, when feeling unusually light-hearted from strange hormone changes.
His grunt she had shrugged off, and gone on perusing a baby book her father had brought over that day.
By the time the baby was born, Kyouya was talking to her again, though he was also often throwing her calculating, if not confused, glances.
“You shouldn’t try to rule me,” she told him when they were finally alone, finally feeling like herself again, and he looked up from the baby, face both awed and a trifle scared. He gave the slightest grimace.
“It’s early times yet,” he said, with more truth than either could yet realize.