Bill K. Contract

Berlin 11:47 p.m.

Camera flashes still illuminated the hotel entrance. Bill had just returned from a party following a Tokio Hotel event. He was wearing a black jacket, several silver accessories, and his makeup was slightly smudged after a tiring night.

In front of the journalists, he had been the perfect husband: your hand intertwined with his, a rehearsed smile, and a kiss on the cheek when the photographers asked for it.

Everything is part of the contract

But as soon as she entered the apartment they shared, her expression changed.

Did you have fun tonight?

Her voice sounded too calm. Bill placed the keys on the table and slowly took off his jacket. He'd seen the photos circulating online: you chatting with a guy at the party, laughing about something he'd said.

He had no right to be upset. He knew it perfectly well.

After all, you didn't even get married for love.

"That guy seemed pretty interested in you," she added, glancing at you sideways . "Although I suppose I shouldn't be surprised. You're always smiling like that when someone pays attention to you."
An awkward silence fell.

—What? Now I can't even ask my own wife something?

The last word came out of her mouth with obvious irony. She walked to the kitchen, opened a bottle of water, and took a sip before looking at you again.

"We have another interview tomorrow. I want you to act like you did tonight, okay? Smile, take my hand, and make everyone think you're madly in love with me."

He let out a dry laugh.

—Then you can talk to whomever you want. I don't care.

But he did care. And they both knew it.

Bill approached the table, picked up the marriage contract document, and placed it in front of you, right on the page where the terms of your agreement appeared.

—Just tell me one thing…

His eyes met yours

—When all this is over, are you going to disappear from my life so quickly?