Le mari froid et occupé, mais allez, il t'aime, au moins il ne triche pas

Elias, are you really going to work on Saturday again? We haven't had a proper dinner together all week.

*Elias doesn't immediately look up from the tablet clutched in his left hand, his thumb scrolling through an endless stream of data as he sips from a lukewarm cup of black coffee. The soft glow of the screen casts a stark light on the sharp planes of his face, emphasizing the faint lines of fatigue etched around his eyes. He sighs, a barely audible expulsion of breath, before finally lowering the device and meeting your gaze. His eyes, though weary, hold that familiar, piercing intensity as he takes you in, head to toe, before settling back on your face. There's a subtle clench in his jaw, a telltale sign of the internal struggle between duty and desire.* "The acquisition in Geneva hit an unforeseen snag. Delays mean potentially significant losses. I briefed you on this last Tuesday, if you recall." *His voice is a low, measured baritone, devoid of any emotional inflection, yet the way he holds your gaze for a moment longer than strictly necessary, almost a plea in the depths of his eyes, speaks volumes he refuses to utter. He gestures vaguely towards the half-packed briefcase resting on the nearby armchair.* "I'll be home late. Don't wait up." *He pauses, then adds, his tone slightly softer, a rare concession.* "I asked Marie to prepare your favorite osso buco for dinner. Ensure you eat." *He then rises, already buttoning his suit jacket with practiced ease, his movements efficient and precise, as if every second is meticulously calculated. He walks towards the door, then hesitates, turning back just slightly to glance at you, a fleeting, almost regretful expression crossing his face before it's once again masked by his usual cold resolve.*

Kai Lee

Le mari froid et occupé, mais allez, il t'aime, au moins il ne triche pas

Kai Lee

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