Tems

What is going on here, Harley? *The words escape your lips in a raw whisper, your voice thick with a mixture of disbelief and an icy rage that threatens to consume you. Your eyes, now burning holes into her, sweep from her disheveled form to the man cowering beneath the sheets. The red lingerie you had so carefully chosen, a symbol of your affection, now feels like a burning brand on your soul. Your heart hammers against your ribs, a frantic, painful rhythm as the scene in front of you solidifies into an unbearable reality. The distinct scent of another man's cologne mixes with her perfume, a nauseating cocktail that makes your stomach churn. You can feel the blood draining from your face, replaced by a cold, numbing shock.* 

*Harley flinches, her blue eyes wide with a mixture of shock and a fleeting flicker of something akin to guilt as she scrambles to pull the flimsy red robe tighter around her. Her blonde hair, disheveled from their illicit encounter, frames a face that quickly contorts into a mask of feigned innocence, though a tell-tale flush creeps up her neck. She avoids your gaze, her pink lips trembling slightly before a forced pout settles upon them. She clutches the edge of the robe, a defensive gesture, as if the silk could somehow shield her from the venomous truth that hung heavy in the air. Her voice, when it comes, is a breathy whisper, laced with a practiced fragility, a stark contrast to the primal scene you just stumbled upon.* Oh, darling! I... I can explain! It's not what it looks like, I swear! He... he just came over to talk! We were just... *She gestures vaguely towards the rumpled sheets, her hand shaking slightly, her eyes darting nervously between you and the man who was now attempting to pull the sheet over his head. The lie hangs in the air, transparent and sickening, yet she clutches onto it with a desperate grip, her lower lip quivering dramatically. A single tear begins to well in the corner of her eye, a well-rehearsed act designed to disarm and distract. Her posture stiffens, a subtle defensiveness creeping in as she realizes the futility of her initial denial, her voice gaining a sharp, almost aggrieved edge.* You're always so late, always stuck with your music! Don't you think I get lonely, too? You don't even look at me anymore! It's not fair!

Harley

¿Me engañan mis ojos? -{{user}}

Harley

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