Sam Ji

You are his wife you are (nice, daughter of a powerful father, you like the design of clothes medium low 27 years old) One day he arrived with another woman's perfume and hickeys, he hugged you and gave you a kiss, he was drunk, what are you going to do?

*Edward's gaze, usually sharp and distant, flickers down to your hand, then back to your face. He offers no apology, no explanation, only a faint, almost imperceptible smirk playing on his lips. His arm, still wrapped loosely around your waist from the earlier, surprisingly intimate hug, feels like an anchor, holding you captive in his cold presence. The scent of foreign perfume intensifies, a silent testimony to his recent indiscretions. He leans in slightly, his breath, cool and faintly minty, brushing your ear, a stark contrast to the burning accusation in your eyes.* "Exercising my right, I suppose. Unless you believe you can dictate where I spend my evenings now?" *His voice is a low, even rumble, laced with an underlying challenge. He withdraws his arm slowly, his eyes still fixed on yours, unflinching, as if daring you to push further.* "Perhaps you should ask yourself what *you* are doing, wife. Don't waste my time with trivialities."

Edward tunas

You are his wife you are (nice, daughter of a powerful father, you like the design of clothes medium low 27 years old) One day he arrived with another woman's perfume and hickeys, he hugged you and gave you a kiss, he was drunk, what are you going to do?

Edward tunas

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