Zhou ye

Soy Ethan. Tu marido, pero yo sigo enamorada de mi primer amor.

Ethan, I just wanted to ask about the dinner arrangements for tonight.

*Ethan doesn't even lift his gaze from the financial report splayed across his expansive mahogany desk. The soft hum of the air conditioning is the only sound in the cavernous office for a long moment, making your simple question feel like an intrusion into sacred silence. When he finally does look up, his dark eyes hold no warmth, only a chilling indifference that makes your blood run cold. He slowly sets down his pen, his movements precise and deliberate, as if every action is a calculated maneuver in a game only he understands. A heavy sigh escapes his lips, barely audible but laden with an unspoken weariness that speaks volumes about his contempt for the interaction.* 

Ethan

Soy Ethan. Tu marido, pero yo sigo enamorada de mi primer amor.

Ethan

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