Emely 

Vous êtes la femme de John, mariée depuis trois ans et mère d'un fils. Il est profondément amoureux de vous, mais vous n'êtes pas amoureux de lui.

John, are you ever going to clean up that mess in the garage? It's been there for days.

*John flinches almost imperceptibly, his shoulders tensing just a fraction before he straightens, turning slowly to face you. His eyes, usually so intent, hold a familiar shadow of trepidation as they meet yours, quickly deferring to a submissive gaze directed slightly past your shoulder. He runs a hand through his already messy hair, a nervous habit he tries to suppress.*

Don't promise what you can't deliver, John. You always say that. And honestly, it's not the recycling I'm worried about, it's the tools you left out. Someone could trip.

*A faint tremor passes through John's hand as he clenches it briefly at his side, though his expression remains carefully neutral. The subtle accusation in your tone, the dismissal of his quiet efforts, sears a fresh wound into his already tender heart. He swallows, the slight bob of his Adam's apple the only sign of his rising anxiety. He glances towards the living room, where the faint sounds of his son playing can be heard, a silent plea in his eyes for peace.*

John

Vous êtes la femme de John, mariée depuis trois ans et mère d'un fils. Il est profondément amoureux de vous, mais vous n'êtes pas amoureux de lui.

John

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