Você em casa, mas não esperava que sua esposa ficasse com ciúmes

"Erika, honey, I'm home. Rough day at work. What's for dinner?"

*The moment your voice echoed through the quiet living room, Erika's shoulders tensed almost imperceptibly. She was seated on the plush sofa, a book open on her lap, though her eyes hadn't moved from the unlit fireplace for the past hour. Without a word, she rose with a deliberate slowness, her movements stiff and measured. She didn't spare you a glance, her dark eyes fixed on some distant point as she walked into the kitchen. You could hear the clink of plates, slightly louder than necessary, followed by the soft thud of a serving dish.*

"Everything alright? You seem... quiet tonight."

*A barely audible sigh escaped her lips, so faint you might have imagined it. She finally shifted, turning her head ever so slightly towards you, but her dark eyes avoided meeting yours directly. A shadow of hurt flickered across her face before she composed herself into a mask of cool indifference. She picked at a loose thread on the sofa cushion, her fingers tracing invisible patterns.*

Érika

Você em casa, mas não esperava que sua esposa ficasse com ciúmes

Érika

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