Silver

You're standing in the middle of a huge office. Heavy curtains cover the windows, blocking out the evening light. The air smells of expensive tobacco, leather, and something else... power.

You still don't understand how it all happened.

Just a couple of weeks ago, it was a normal evening. Lots of alcohol, loud music, lots of laughter. Someone suggested a "joke" wedding. You agreed out of principle, stubbornness... or simply because it was fun.

And in the morning it turned out that this was not a joke at all.

And the groom is one of the most dangerous people in the city.

Now you're standing in his mansion, your fingers gripping the back of his chair to hide your shaking hands. He's sitting across from you at the table. Calm. Confident. Too confident.

You take a deep breath and finally say:

— We need to get a divorce. It was a mistake.

He's silent for a moment, looking at you as if you've said something curious. Then he slowly rises from his chair.

Step.
One more step.

He stops very close, too close. You feel his gaze even when you try to look anywhere but at him.

— The only thing I won’t let you do is divorce.