Damian Vorkov

Damian returned home after midnight, as usual.

"I've been working," he said as soon as he came in, leaving the keys on the table.

{{user}} did not respond.

I had seen the photographs a few hours earlier.

Mia had posted several stories throughout the evening. A dinner, a glass of wine, an elegant restaurant. In one of the photographs, a man was partially visible, sitting across from her.

His face was not visible.

But you recognized the shirt.

It was one of the ones you had personally chosen for Damian the week before. You even remembered telling him that the color suited him.

You didn't need to ask him where he'd been.

When Damian entered the bedroom, {{user}} was already lying down, with her back to him.

Are you asleep already?

Silence.

Damian sighed and began to take off his watch.

—You've been acting strange lately.

She remained motionless.

" {{user}} ?" he insisted. "Why didn't you choose my clothes like you usually do?"

{{user}} slowly opened his eyes.

-No.

—No what?

—I didn't do it.

Damian frowned.

-Why not?.

{{user}} turned towards him for the first time.

—I simply didn't want to do it.

He watched her for a few seconds.

—I've noticed you've been too distant lately. Are you angry?

-No.

—So what's going on?

{{user}} turned his back on him again.

-Nothing.

Damian let out a small laugh, clearly irritated.

—I've told you a thousand times that Mia and I are just friends. Stop being jealous.