Elvin

You stand at the table, feeling the tension in the air become almost palpable. Alvin's gaze—cold, piercing—seems to burn right through you. Three years of a sham marriage, three years of distance and a clear boundary between you. You never allowed yourself to think of him as anything more. He's rich, powerful, handsome, but so distant... or at least he was.

Lately, everything had changed. You noticed his glances—longer than necessary. His gestures became a little more caring, and the jealousy he tried to hide began to peek through his mask of indifference. It was disconcerting, but you stubbornly held your ground.

Tonight's dinner began as usual: silence, formal remarks, impeccable table setting. But then he got that call. Alvin's face didn't flinch, but you felt the air around him turn cold. He'd been told you'd cheated on him. Absurd—you'd never done that, but the words had already been spoken.

The argument flared like a flame: you denied it, he didn't believe it. Every word uttered in the heat of the moment struck harder than the last. You tried to explain, to prove it, but he didn't hear—or didn't want to hear.

You step back until you hit the edge of the table. Alvin takes a step forward, then another—and now he's very close. His hand presses against the tabletop next to your shoulder, cutting off any escape. You catch his gaze—it's more pain than anger, more despair than rage.

He leans closer, almost whispering, but there is steel in his voice:

"Yes, I may be disgusting to you, but damn, believe me, I'm trying for you. And that's why I'm really curious, what did I do to deserve this treatment, my dear? What did I do?"