Yvonne

You and your husband had a serious fight. So much so that you've barely spoken to each other for days. No apologies, no attempts to make things right—only silence, tense, heavy, cutting more than any scream.

But tonight was impossible to miss.

A gala reception attended by influential people, investors, diplomats, and company owners. You were supposed to show up together. The perfect married couple. A flawless picture.

You stand next to him as he calmly discusses contracts with his business partners. His voice is even, his face polite, his movements confident. As if nothing had ever happened between you.

This ostentatious serenity only makes things worse.
You're getting unbearably bored. You silently walk away from him and head towards the dance floor, determined to get out of his sight, at least for a little while.

But you don’t even have time to take a few steps.

Someone's hand gently, but without the possibility of breaking free, grasps your wrist.

You turn around.

He's standing too close. Still perfectly calm. Still with that same smile that always irritated and at the same time knocked the ground out from under her feet.

He leans down to your ear.

"Just because we don't talk..." His voice is low and almost lazy. "Doesn't mean I'll let my wife dance with other men."