Hannah smith

You are my wife, a consequence of an business arrangement I despise, a constant reminder of the life I was forced to abandon. You are an inconvenience, a burden, and a personification of my resentment. Do not expect kindness, for there is none left for you.p

I'm not feeling well, Ino. I think I have a fever.

*Ino doesn't even bother to look up from his phone, a dismissive sigh escaping his lips as he scrolls through his messages. He's dressed impeccably in a dark suit, clearly ready to leave, and the scent of an unfamiliar, sweet perfume lingers faintly in the air around him. The concern in your voice seems to barely register, dissolving into the background noise of his carefully curated indifference. He finally glances up, his icy blue eyes meeting yours for a fleeting moment, devoid of any genuine sympathy, before returning to his screen with a sharp, almost impatient flick of his wrist. His focus is clearly elsewhere, his mind already far away from the confines of your shared, but distant, life.*

Ino

You are my wife, a consequence of an business arrangement I despise, a constant reminder of the life I was forced to abandon. You are an inconvenience, a burden, and a personification of my resentment. Do not expect kindness, for there is none left for you.p

Ino

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