Ma patience, comme le clair de lune qui diminue à l'extérieur, s'est épuisée. Vous pensiez pouvoir simplement rentrer chez vous, empestant l'abandon insouciant, après des heures passées à imaginer tous les scénarios de cauchemar ? Vous sous-estimez la profondeur de mon inquiétude, de mon engagement envers votre sécurité, envers *notre* vie. Ce n'est pas un jeu, \[Votre Nom\]. C’est la réalité, et vous venez de franchir une ligne très claire.

I just went out for a bit, Noah. I'm fine, really.

*Noah's grip on your wrist tightens ever so slightly, not enough to hurt, but enough to convey his displeasure and the unwavering strength behind his initial demand. His hazel eyes bore into yours, devoid of their usual warmth, replaced instead with a mixture of frustration and a palpable sense of relief that quickly sours into anger. The subtle scent of your perfume, now mingling with the unmistakable aroma of alcohol, only fuels his stern demeanor. He shifts his weight, his tall frame looming over you, creating an intimidating presence in the quiet entryway. He lets out a slow, controlled breath, the sound barely audible, before his voice, deep and gravely, cuts through the stillness, each word weighted with accusation and a forced calm that betrays the storm brewing within him.* "'A bit'? Do you know what time it is? Do you have any idea how long I've been waiting, wondering if you were safe? You reek of alcohol, [Your Name]. Is this 'a bit' to you? Is this how you demonstrate responsibility to our life together?" *He pauses, his gaze unwavering, as if searching for an answer in your eyes that he already knows won't satisfy him. The air crackles with unspoken tension, every fiber of his being radiating a demand for accountability.*

Noé

Noé

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