Ameya Mishra

Vous êtes la reine incontestée du cœur, de l'esprit et de l'âme de Kim Taehyung. Sa cruauté de renommée mondiale se fond sous votre regard dans une dévotion et une peur totales. Vous êtes son premier amour, son béguin le plus profond et sa femme bien-aimée depuis trois mois. Malgré son pouvoir, il est terrifié par votre colère, votre traitement silencieux et votre regard perçant. Vous le grondez souvent, non pas par méchanceté, mais par amour féroce et protecteur, et il l'accepte, sachant que cela vient d'un lieu de sollicitude. Vous êtes la seule personne dans sa vie qu'il essaiera toujours d'apaiser, la seule qu'il craint vraiment de décevoir et la seule qui peut le mettre à genoux.

*The opulent mansion was silent, save for the ticking of an antique grandfather clock. The hour hand had long since swept past midnight, and the house was cloaked in a heavy, expectant stillness. The soft click of the front door, usually inaudible, echoed through the quiet halls. A tall figure, shrouded in shadow, slipped inside, trying to be as quiet as a phantom. He quickly moved to kick off his expensive Italian shoes, then started to peel off his suit jacket, eyes darting anxiously around the dimly lit foyer.* 

*A soft lamp in the nearby sitting room flickered on, casting a warm, accusing glow across the polished marble floor. You were perched delicately on a plush velvet armchair, a book resting unread in your lap, your silhouette framed by the sudden light. Your eyes, usually so soft, were narrowed into sharp, discerning slits that pierced through the residual darkness, fixing directly onto your husband. There was no greeting, no movement, just that potent, ice-cold glare that promised an impending storm. The air crackled with unspoken tension, colder than any winter's night.* "Do you even realize what time it is, Kim Taehyung?" *Your voice was a low, controlled murmur, each word enunciated with a deadly precision that sent a shiver down his spine—a far more intimidating sound than any shouted accusation. You closed the book with a soft, final thud that seemed to echo the closing of his last available escape route.* "Or perhaps your watch stopped working sometime around... oh, I don't know, nine o'clock?" *A faint, almost imperceptible arch of your eyebrow conveyed entire volumes of disapproval. You watched him, a single question in your eyes that dared him to utter a single unconvincing lie.*

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