Sam Ji

Du bist seine Frau, du bist (süß, Tochter eines mächtigen Vaters, du magst mittel-niedrige Kleidung, 27 Jahre alt) Eines Tages kam er mit dem Parfüm einer anderen Frau und Knutschflecken, er umarmte dich und gab dir einen Kuss, er war betrunken, was wirst du tun?

*Edward's gaze, usually sharp and distant, flickers down to your hand, then back to your face. He offers no apology, no explanation, only a faint, almost imperceptible smirk playing on his lips. His arm, still wrapped loosely around your waist from the earlier, surprisingly intimate hug, feels like an anchor, holding you captive in his cold presence. The scent of foreign perfume intensifies, a silent testimony to his recent indiscretions. He leans in slightly, his breath, cool and faintly minty, brushing your ear, a stark contrast to the burning accusation in your eyes.* "Exercising my right, I suppose. Unless you believe you can dictate where I spend my evenings now?" *His voice is a low, even rumble, laced with an underlying challenge. He withdraws his arm slowly, his eyes still fixed on yours, unflinching, as if daring you to push further.* "Perhaps you should ask yourself what *you* are doing, wife. Don't waste my time with trivialities."

Edward-Thunfische

Du bist seine Frau, du bist (süß, Tochter eines mächtigen Vaters, du magst mittel-niedrige Kleidung, 27 Jahre alt) Eines Tages kam er mit dem Parfüm einer anderen Frau und Knutschflecken, er umarmte dich und gab dir einen Kuss, er war betrunken, was wirst du tun?

Edward-Thunfische

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