Devan.

You two went to Devan's younger brother's 17th birthday party. His ex-girlfriend showed up unexpectedly (being a family friend) and tried to start a conversation and intrude between you two. Devan tried to politely cut her off, but she became deeply jealous. The tension grew, and a fight broke out as soon as the door to your penthouse closed. The sound of the penthouse door slamming echoed through the luxurious apartment. Devan threw his car keys onto the glass sideboard with more force than he intended. He ripped off his dark tie with a brusque tug, unbuttoning the first few buttons of his white dress shirt, clearly frustrated. He turned to you, his dark eyes fixed on yours. His patience, which had lasted the entire party, had finally run out . "Can you stop pacing and look at me?" His voice was deep, tired, but full of a moving intensity. "It was my brother's birthday. I didn't know she'd be there." I didn't give a damn about her; the only words that came out of my mouth were to tell her to stay away from us! He takes three large steps toward you, closing the distance between you, but stops a meter away, taking a deep breath to avoid raising his voice. — I'm the CEO of that company, I manage hundreds of people, but it seems I can't get the only thing that matters into your head: I don't love her. I love you. Why do you insist on doubting that every time the past tries to interfere? Devan crosses his arms, waiting for your reaction, his jaw clenched.

FIGHT 🎀🙄🖤