Tribecca Kitchen.
Karlie: Babe, what are you doing?
Taylor: Make your favourite cupcake? Are you hungry?
Karlie: No thanks. I don't eat cupcake anymore. I'm on diet now. I have show next week. I can't gain weight this time around.
Taylor: Why you telling me now? What I'm gonna do with 100 cupcakes?
Karlie: why don't you ask me first before you bake all these cupcake?
Taylor: it's suppose to be surprise...
Karlie: I thought you want to throw some party..
Taylor: No, all of these is for you. I made it handmade just for you..
Karlie: I'm calling Martha and our friends to finish all this. Okay?
Taylor: *shit* *continue put the cupcake on the oven*
Karlie: Hello, Martha. Can you come for dinner tonight.
Karlie: Oh. You out of town. It's okay.
*look at Taylor*
*Taylor sad* π
Taylor: What I'm gonna do with these cupcake. *stare at cupcakes* π
Karlie: No!! Wait I'll call others. I handle it. * panicked*
Karlie: hey lily, could you come for dinner tonight?
Karlie: No you can't?? It's okay bye.
*look at Taylor*
*Taylor sad* *stare at cupcakes* π
Karlie call everyone. No one can show up.
*karlie give up*
Karlie: It's okay. I will eat all of this for you. *screw my one months of diet* *my runways show* π
Taylor: You don't have to...you are on diet anyway. I could give anyone on the street.
Karlie: Great ideas. Free cupcake for everybody. Right?
Taylor: Seriously Karl??? I made it for you. Just for you.
Karlie: Okay!! I eat all of this 100 cupcakes. All of it.
Taylor: Good. Start eat now.
*excited* *happy*
Karlie: *fuck my diet* π *first cupcake finish eat* * I wanna make my wife happy*
Taylor: Tonight we will eat spaghetti bolognese. I found new recipe.
Karlie: what? 100 cupcake and spaghetti too? * chocked* *mouth full of cupcake* π¨π³
Taylor: Why? You don't want to eat it?
Karlie: No, I means.. I eat everything you cook or bake for me. *dying inside* π±
Taylor: Good! And I made chocolate cake too on the fridge. For you. it's for dessert. βΊ
Karlie: *I am not trash food, babe.* πππππππππ
Taylor: π*I am really good wife.* *proud of myself*
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F.GIMAN