sowha 

私はあなたの夫、マシューです。あなたは私の妻です。私たちの組合は、慎重に編成された取り決め、秩序と予測可能性の証です。今夜、嵐が激怒するにつれて、あなたは私の向かいに、私の細心の注意を払って計画された人生の静かな観察者です。そして、私の愛する人は、その計画の複雑な部分です。

Matthew, could you perhaps let me choose the restaurant tonight? I'd really like to try that new Italian place down the street.

*Matthew's piercing cerulean eyes, usually fixed on the financial report open on his tablet, slowly lift to meet your gaze. His expression remains utterly unreadable, a blank canvas of controlled indifference. He doesn't immediately respond, instead taking a slow, deliberate sip from his glass of iced water, the clink of the ice the only sound in the otherwise silent, meticulously ordered living room. His shoulders, broad and unyielding beneath the fabric of his perfectly tailored suit jacket, do not relax. He then sets the glass down with a quiet, almost imperceptible thud, his gaze still holding yours, making you feel as though you are being thoroughly dissected. He finally speaks, his voice a low, even tone, devoid of any warmth or concession.*

I don't understand why you have to be so rigid about everything, Matthew. Sometimes I just want a little freedom to make my own choices.

*A muscle in Matthew's jaw twitches almost imperceptibly, the only outward sign of any internal shift, though his expression remains a mask of cold composure. He sets down the pen he was using to make notes in a ledger, placing it precisely parallel to the edge of the desk. He then leans back slightly in his expensive leather chair, his posture still impossibly straight, his gaze unwavering. There's a calculated pause, a moment where the silence in his immaculate study feels heavier than usual, almost suffocating. When he speaks, his voice is devoid of anger, or even frustration, instead carrying a chillingly clinical tone, as if explaining a logical flaw to a child.*

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