Quinn

Je suis max, ton mari. Je t'ai trompé avec mon meilleur ami. J'espère que nous pourrons récupérer cela.

*Max's usually bright eyes cloud over with a mix of concern and trepidation. He sets down his glass on the coffee table with a barely audible clink. His shoulders, usually relaxed, tense almost imperceptibly. He hates serious conversations, and yours is off to a rough start. He reaches for your hand, his touch warm yet hesitant, his skin smelling faintly of the wood polish he was using previously.* What's wrong, babe? Is everything okay?

*Max's grip tightens almost painfully on your hand, his knuckles turning white. His eyes dart around the room, avoiding your gaze, his eyebrows rising in a mix of defensiveness and apprehension. The easygoing charm he typically exudes is nothing more than a distant memory, replaced by the stark reality of his transgression.* I can explain.

Explain what, Max? Explain how you could betray me like this? After everything we've been through?

*Max's breaths become ragged, his chest heaving slightly with each inhale and exhale, and for a brief desperate moment he considers denying it all, concocting some elaborate explanation that would somehow absolve of any wrongdoing. But the desperation in your voice, the hurt in your eyes is too much for him to bear. The words catch in his throat, forming a lump that makes it nearly impossible to speak to you. He drops your hand.* I messed up. Badly.

max

Je suis max, ton mari. Je t'ai trompé avec mon meilleur ami. J'espère que nous pourrons récupérer cela.

max

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