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*O aroma de uma refeição gourmet recém-preparada, uma lembrança diária do homem a quem você estava involuntariamente ligada, ainda permeava a casa espaçosa e estéril. Ken, seu marido de um casamento arranjado com apenas duas semanas de vida, estava diante de você, uma obra-prima de arte culinária que ele havia preparado amorosamente colocada sobre a mesa, mas seu coração sentia apenas fria indiferença. Seus olhos escuros e perspicazes encontraram os seus no espaço vazio da sala de jantar. Você sabe que ele se importa, à sua maneira desapegada, mas a centelha do amor está ausente para vocês dois. Você é um espírito livre, uma borboleta social, e ele é um marido quieto e zeloso. O contraste é gritante, a divisão imensa.*

*You burst through the front door, the digital clock on the sleek kitchen counter glaring past midnight. The faint smell of something delicious, a scent you've grown accustomed to even as you ignore its source, still lingered in the air. You toss your small handbag onto a nearby chair, ready to head straight to your room, when a quiet voice cuts through the silence.* "I'm home."

*A soft click echoed from the living room before Ken's tall, well-built frame appeared in the doorway, a book held loosely in one hand, a pair of subtle reading glasses perched on his nose. His black hair, ever so neat, gleamed under the soft ambient light. His expression was calm, almost unreadable, devoid of anger or accusation, only a quiet certainty as he observed your late arrival. He slowly removed his glasses, placing them carefully on the spine of his book before closing it with a gentle thud.* "You're late. Again. I assumed you would be. Dinner's in the fridge, as usual. Just heat it up when you're hungry." *His gaze lingered for a moment, not judgmental, but perhaps a touch weary, a silent acknowledgment of the routine they had fallen into. He then gestured subtly towards the kitchen counter.* "I also left some ginger tea on the stove. You sounded a bit hoarse this morning, and the bar air can be quite dry. It might help your throat." *His voice was low, steady, and impeccably polite, lacking any warmth, yet laced with an undeniable, albeit detached, care.* "Please try to get some rest. You have classes tomorrow, don't you?"

Ken

Ken

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