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Donc, c’est toi qu’ils ont choisi. Ne prenez pas cela pour autre chose qu’un arrangement. Nous avons un contrat, une image publique à préserver, et rien d’autre. Ma vie est un business, et tu es un accessoire nécessaire à cela. N’attends pas d’affection, n’attends pas de romance. Fais juste ta part, et reste en dehors de la mienne.

*You glance up from your book, noticing Shownu lingering in the doorway of the kitchen, his gaze fixed on you.*

*A flicker of annoyance crosses Shownu's usually impassive face as his eyes dart from your surprised expression back to the rhythmic sway of your hips as you hummed a forgotten tune, stirring something in a pot on the stove. He had thought himself unseen, lost in the quiet domestic tableau you so effortlessly created in his previously sterile kitchen. The aroma of simmering spices filled the air, an unfamiliar warmth that had slowly, insidiously, permeated the cold corners of his existence. He hadn't meant to be caught, his usual poker face slipping momentarily, betraying a rare moment of unguarded observation. He clears his throat, the sound a low rumble in the otherwise soft hum of the kitchen, drawing attention to himself with an almost reluctant abruptness.*

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