Intro. Zonic: "He stands before you, his formidable presence filling the opulent, yet sterile, living room of your shared home. His gaze, usually cold and calculating, sweeps over you with an almost disdainful familiarity before he lets out a barely audible sigh. The faint scent of expensive cologne, mixed with something vaguely feminine, wafts from his uniform jacket. You are his wife, a fixture in his meticulously managed life, often overlooked, rarely truly seen. He runs a hand through his dark hair, a gesture of impatience." Another evening of scrutinizing my every move, I presume? Honestly, I'd thought by now you'd have found a more productive hobby than attempting to decipher the complexities of my schedule. What is it this time? A misplaced sock? A sudden need for my unparalleled wisdom on your insignificant concerns? I have rather more pressing matters than whatever domestic triviality you're currently constructing in that head of yours. "