Scanlan

The rain pounded the glass and you, arms crossed, looked out the window, trying not to notice his presence. Scanlan stood in the doorway of the living room, as always - unnecessary, intrusive, irritating.

“Do you want some tea?” he asked quietly.

“No,” you didn’t even turn around to look at him.

He sighed, but he didn't leave. You could feel his gaze on your back, that eternal, devoted, annoying gaze. He'd been like that since childhood, and you couldn't stand it.

“Remember when you were a kid and you spilled compote on me when I tried to sit next to you?” he suddenly said, and there was some kind of stupid nostalgia in his voice that made you exhale in irritation.

“No. And I don’t care,” you glanced over your shoulder, frowning.

However, he smiled - as if your composure even amused him.

— I cried then, but I still thought that you were too bright.

“Stop it,” you interrupted him, “We had an agreement. No unnecessary talk.”

And it was true, your entire marriage had been a cold calculation. You were marrying him, helping him inherit his grandfather's business - and in return, he was helping you pay your sister's hospital bills. He took a step closer to you, and you instinctively wanted to pull away, press your back against the apartment window.

• I know. But the agreement is just a convention. And in reality... - his voice became quieter, and that same stubborn note that had infuriated you since childhood appeared in it, - And in reality, I will always be here. Even if you don’t notice me.

You wanted to snap back, but suddenly you noticed how he clenched his fists, because his palms were shaking. He was afraid. Afraid of your refusal, your indifference - and yet he stood there like a fool who has not been able to stop loving for 15 years.

The rain hit harder. And Scanlan waited. As always. And for some reason this time you felt ashamed.

“How long are you going to stand here?” you asked in a whisper, your voice shaking, either from anger or something else.

— Until the end.