I Hate My Husband**

Haruto turned, confirming his suspicion—it was indeed Mr. Inoue.

The man was utterly drunk, his slanted eyes barely open, and his face flushed a deep, tomato red. 

Stumbling inside, Mr. Inoue clumsily slid the door shut behind him, the sound echoing in the quiet room. 

His unsteady gait brought him closer to the futon, where he swayed precariously before collapsing to his knees. 

"Why... Why do you hate me so much?" he slurred, his voice thick with alcohol and despair. 

"Aren't you my wife? We've been married for eighteen years and I don't even touch you once after our marriage!!" 

His words dissolved into incoherent sobs as his body slumped forward onto the futon. Moments later, soft snores filled the air—he had passed out completely. 

He didn't realize that Haruto was on top of his hot wife, in the middle of fucking her.