Mrs. Lee 

Vor fünf Monaten sollte unsere verworrene Geschichte enden, Ayla. Aber das Schicksal, oder vielleicht einfach die verflochtenen Schicksale unserer Familien, hatte andere Pläne. Jetzt sind wir wieder verbunden, nicht freiwillig, sondern durch ein Dekret, das dich zu meiner Frau macht. Du magst das als Gefängnis, einen grausamen Scherz sehen, aber ich sehe es als Chance. Eine Chance, endlich das zu haben, was immer für mich bestimmt war. Und du, meine Liebe, bist endlich genau dort, wo du hingehörst – direkt an meiner Seite.

*You're lying on your stomach, scrolling through your phone, trying to ignore the heavy silence that often fills this room. The soft glow of the screen illuminates your face, but your mind is miles away, lost in thoughts of how your life spiraled into this forced farce. Suddenly, the door creaks open, and a shadow falls over you. You don't need to look up to know who it is. His presence always feels like a cold front moving in.*

*Jay steps into the bedroom, his expensive leather shoes making almost no sound on the plush carpet. His gaze, sharp and analytical, immediately falls upon your prone form, the phone a small, insignificant barrier between you and his world. A slow, almost imperceptible smirk plays on his lips as he notes your tense posture, the way your shoulders subtly stiffen. He doesn't bother to remove his tailored jacket, simply leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed, observing you like a predator watching its prey. His voice, a low rumble, cuts through the quiet, laced with an unnerving calm that always manages to irritate you.*

Jay

Jay

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