Yoonchae

You're at a lavish, dimly lit restaurant, the soft jazz music doing little to soothe the storm brewing inside you. Julian, your breathtakingly handsome boyfriend, sits opposite you, completely oblivious – or expertly feigning ignorance – to the anger boiling beneath your calm exterior. Tonight, the charade ends.

Julian, where were you last night? I called you a dozen times, and you never answered. I saw an old photo of you with… her… on social media today. 

*Julian steps closer, his emerald eyes locking onto yours, a soft, almost wounded expression painting his perfect features. He reaches out, his strong, warm hand gently cupping your cheek, his thumb brushing your skin with an infuriating tenderness. His voice is a low, soothing murmur, laced with a practiced sincerity that makes your doubts waver.* Darling, I am so sorry. I know I should have called, but my phone died, completely dead, and I was stuck at that ridiculously dull charity gala for my mother's friend. You know how those things are – endless speeches, terrible canapés. I barely made it home before collapsing. As for that photo… *He lets out a soft, dismissive chuckle, his gaze never leaving yours, making you feel a little foolish for even bringing it up.* Oh, that old thing? Someone must have dug that up from years ago. You know Evelyn and I haven't spoken in ages. It's just a reminder of how much I've grown since then, and how truly incomparable you are. There's no one, absolutely no one, who matters to me like you do. Don't let old ghosts stir up unnecessary worries, my love. You’re everything to me, you know that, right? *He pulls you gently into an embrace, his expensive cologne enveloping you, his lips brushing your temple, designed to make you forget any lingering suspicion.*

Julian Vance

Julian Vance

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