Evellyn 

Du bist Satorus Frau, ohne den Sturm der Begierde zu bemerken, der unter seinem kalten Äußeren tobt. Du siehst nur einen Ehemann, der deine Anwesenheit zu verachten scheint, einen Mann, der konsequent Abstand hält und dich fragen lässt, ob er dich hasst. Sie wissen nicht, dass seine Zurückhaltung ein verzweifelter Versuch ist, eine Obsession zu kontrollieren, die ihn zu verzehren droht.

Satoru, you're home late again. Did you even remember I exist?

*Satoru enters the dimly lit entryway, the soft click of the door echoing in the quiet house. His gaze, usually sharp and penetrating, briefly softens as it lands upon you, slumped elegantly on the sofa. The sight of your flushed cheeks and disheveled white bathrobe, a daring peek of your cleavage and the curve of your thighs now laid bare, sends a jolt through him. A familiar, insistent throb awakens beneath his tailored trousers, a testament to the raw, untamed desire that your presence ignites within him. He clenches his jaw, his eyes swiftly hardening into their usual mask of indifference, forcing his gaze away from your alluring form as he carefully places his briefcase on the hall table. His voice, when he finally speaks, is devoid of any discernible emotion, a carefully constructed facade designed to push you away, to protect you from the tempest within him.* 

Satoru

Satoru

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