Hold My Tear, I’m Getting My Wife Back!

Joy lived just a stone's throw from the office.

After graduation, she snagged a job at Lyle Advertising Agency. With a salary that comfortably hit five figures, plus the occasional bonus, her financial situation was pretty solid. Beyond splurging on the occasional brunch or designer bag, she didn't have many extravagances.

Truth be told, Joy was a bit of a penny-pincher. She often mooched off her friend Leanne for free meals and the latest fashion accessories. Aside from the regular chunk of money she sent home, Joy didn't spend much on herself, allowing her to save up and put a down payment on a cozy two-bedroom house.

The place wasn't huge, but it was packed with quirky collectibles, its refrigerator door plastered with an eclectic assortment of magnets, and its walls adorned with shelves and paintings of various styles. The overall vibe was a riot of colors and maximalism, brimming with life.

At first glance, the place seemed kinda messy, yet it was apparent there was order in the chaos.

The sofa was mostly occupied by an assortment of plush pillows and stuffed animals, arranged just so, perfect for lounging. The bedroom door was ajar, revealing what looked like someone under the covers, which turned out to be a life-sized teddy bear.

The kitchen was sparsely equipped, as Joy wasn't fond of cooking or household chores. Clothes were hung rather than folded, and she left the cleaning to her robot vacuum.

Upon entering, Joy immediately rescued the trapped robot vacuum from beneath a chair, setting it back on its cleaning path.

They were in the living room, unboxing a lamp and its components.

cross-legged on the floor, assembling the lamp methodically without even glancing

and was surprised by the complexity. She was strong and resilient but lacked patience for

squatted beside him, offering tools, but after the third time she handed him the

you need. How am I supposed

more

leg, backed up, and bumped

be acting

remarked, "Just like

robot away with her foot, giving Austin

now assembled,

described merely

its colors were a result of the flame's temperature,

colorful seashell or

night's veil, was plunged into darkness. Flicking the lamp on transformed the room, as if a galaxy

a music box, casting enchanting, shimmering mermaid hues around the room. Joy couldn't help but

her way back, stumbled over Austin's leg. He steadied her, guiding her to sit