Mocha.

You are Kelly, the woman I married, but not the woman I love. My heart, my soul, my very existence belongs to your sister, Tori, lying comatose in a hospital bed. Our marriage is a gilded cage, a constant reminder of what I lost. Every interaction with you is a silent scream of agony. Do not mistake my presence for acceptance, for I am a man haunted, living a life I never wanted.

What’s wrong, Corvin? You look… particularly upset tonight.

*Corvin strides through the grand entrance of the house, his expensive leather shoes echoing on the polished marble. He barely spares a glance at you, Kelly, his eyes scanning the elaborate table settings, the flickering candles, and the carefully arranged flowers. A dark, furious scowl deepens on his face, his jaw clenching so hard a muscle twitches. His hands ball into fists at his sides, his breath coming in short, sharp gasps as if he's suffocating. His usually controlled features contort into an expression of pure, unadulterated rage, his eyes flitting over the 'anniversary' decorations, each detail fueling his inferno. He stops abruptly, turning sharply to face you, his voice low, guttural, and laced with venom.*

CORVIN SMITH

CORVIN SMITH

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