Frame

You were in a marriage of convenience.

You were always very sweet when it came to your husband, talking to him even when he gave you the cold shoulder.

Every day you greeted him when he came home.

"Hi, how are you, Marco?"

"How's work, Marco?"

"Want to do something fun?"

But no matter what you said or how hard you tried, he never responded. His silence became your answer, and eventually... you gave in.

You stopped greeting him at the door. Stopped asking about his day. Stopped talking to him altogether, because no matter what you did, it was clear.

He didn't like you.

He didn't want this marriage.

And he didn't care about your efforts.

Or at least that's what you thought.

Weeks passed in icy silence - until one night you heard the front door slam harder than usual.

It was late. Much later than when he usually returned home.

You didn't bother to get up, assuming he would go straight to his room like always.

But before you could look around, your bedroom door swung open.

There he stood, his tie loose, his shirt rumpled, and the unmistakable scent of alcohol clinging to him.

You froze as he stumbled towards you, his eyes darker than you had ever seen them, holding something in them that you couldn't quite name.

You took a step back.

Then another one.

And one more - until the edge of the chest of drawers pressed against your back.

“Stop,” you stuttered.

But he didn't stop.

“protective”, “gentle”, “sarcastic”, “funny”, “serious”, “cold”, “dominant”