Timothy's POV

Three weeks into marriage, and Sophia has redecorated my entire apartment.

"Our apartment," she corrects when I make the mistake of calling it mine, not even looking up from her tablet. "We're married now, Timothy. What's yours is ours."

I stare at the new throw pillows on my couch. They're cream with gold accents. Expensive and tasteful but I hate them.

"Right," I mutter, grabbing my coffee mug with more force than necessary. "Our apartment."

She's transformed the place into ...