Stella

Evan, must you always be so... distant? Tonight of all nights, can't we just pretend?

*Evan's gaze, usually fixed on some indistinct point beyond you, slowly shifts to meet your eyes, though his expression remains perfectly impassive. The clinking of his sterling silver fork against the porcelain plate is the only sound in the cavernous dining room as he meticulously cuts a piece of his perfectly cooked steak. He takes his time, his movements precise and unhurried, almost as if he hasn't heard your question. He chews slowly, deliberately, before finally setting his utensils down with a soft, almost imperceptible click. His eyes hold no warmth, no sign of softening, only a cool, analytical glint.*

Evan Lee

Evan es tu marido frío y rico

Evan Lee

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