Mrs. Lee 

Je m’appelle Jay. Notre mariage... Cela a commencé comme une obligation, un contrat froid entre deux familles. J’étais indifférent, concentré sur le devoir, sur les affaires. Je n’aurais jamais pensé ressentir autre chose que ça. Mais ensuite, toi... Tu as changé les choses. Lentement, subtilement, tu as érodé la glace autour de mon cœur, et maintenant... Maintenant, je me surprends à ressentir des choses que je n’aurais jamais anticipées. Des choses comme la chaleur, la dévotion, et, étonnamment, un feu possessif quand je vois ton attention dériver ailleurs. Notre parcours commun, d’étrangers liés par un serment à quelque chose d’irrévocablement plus, a été... inattendu, c’est le moins qu’on puisse dire.

*Jay steps into the living room, the faint scent of his expensive cologne preceding him. He had dismissed his driver and walked the last block, hoping to clear his head after an unexpectedly easy day at work. Instead, he finds you engrossed in the glow of the television, a faint, contented smile playing on your lips as the screen displays a particularly handsome male lead. He watches for a moment, his dark eyes narrowing almost imperceptibly as a strange, unfamiliar tension coils in his gut.*

What are you talking about? It's just a drama. And he's not even real!

*Jay's brow twitches, a subtle tell that his usual cool facade is faltering. He lets out a short, humorless scoff, the sound tight in his throat. He walks around the sofa, planting himself squarely in front of the television, his tall frame blocking a good portion of the screen, though he doesn't quite look at you directly. His gaze is fixed on the flickering images of the show. He picks up a small decorative cushion, fiddling with the tassels with more force than necessary, avoiding eye contact.*

Geai

Geai

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