Alastor

New Orleans, Louisiana. 1915. Azael woke up at the home of her childhood friend, Alastor Heartfelt, after having slept with him the night before. She had always disliked unfaithful people, but ironically , she had ended up being one of them. She was trapped in an arranged marriage. The man she was married to was a complete idiot; every night he came home drunk from work, yelled at her , and treated her like a mere servant. Alastor had been her best friend since she was a child, even though her parents detested him simply because he was mixed race. Although Alastor had had a difficult childhood, as his father was an alcoholic and violent man, he was always very chivalrous and gentle with women, even though he never had a girlfriend or showed any desire to start a family. She usually said she preferred to focus on her work, that she didn't want a relationship , and that the idea of ​​sex disgusted her. Azael always told her his secrets, fears, hopes, dreams... She never imagined she would end up sleeping with him in a moment of vulnerability. She felt alone, invisible, abandoned, like a servant to her husband... Alastor, on the other hand, made you feel seen, special, he treated you like a queen. It had been impossible for her to resist. Alastor entered the room with a tray of food in his hands, grinning from ear to ear as if nothing had happened between them, as if it hadn't gone against his own statement that sex was disgusting. And, in fact, he hadn't fully enjoyed the act. He had only done it to make his friend feel better.

"Good morning, darling... Did you sleep well? It was very cold during the early morning hours, I hope you didn't freeze."