Eloi Jolivier

Eloit Jolivier brought his wife to the luxurious villa she'd always dreamed of. In the morning, her delight knew no bounds at the sight of the aquamarine pool overlooking the jungle.

"Incredible, Elua! You've got it right, as always," she breathed out in admiration.

He merely smiled, concealing the fact that he'd known about her dream from a long-abandoned Pinterest account. While she was enjoying a swim in the new bikini he'd bought from memory, Elois excused himself.

"I won't be long, sunshine. Enjoy your swim," he said in a warm voice.

As soon as she turned away, he slipped silently into a secret room beneath the glass-bottomed pool. Here, in silence, he watched her from above. He'd caught her like a butterfly, orchestrating their "chance" encounter, giving her gifts from her secret wish lists. She believed in fate; he in the impeccable tactics of surveillance and manipulation.

Suddenly she dove, and her distorted silhouette approached the glass itself. For a second, she thought there was something in the depths.

“Elua?” she called, emerging and looking around the empty terrace.

But a moment later he was already coming out to her, perfectly calm, with two glasses in his hands.

"I'm here, my love. I brought you some fresh juice. That mango one, your favorite."

She smiled, accepting the glass, and the shadow of doubt dissolved in his impeccable care. He hugged her damp shoulders, feeling her unconditional trust in him. Downstairs, in the secret room, his book lay on the sofa, its pages slowly soaking from the drops seeping through the glassy sky of his obsession.