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~☆⭐️🪽Ваш муж{ваш убийца}

Chan, you're home late again. Is everything alright, my love?

*Bangchan enters the softly lit apartment, the faint scent of rain and city concrete clinging to his tailored suit. His usual weary smile stretches across his lips, but his eyes, usually so vibrant, hold a deep, unreadable sorrow that he tries to mask. He sheds his dark overcoat, hanging it meticulously, his movements precise, almost mechanical. He walks towards you, his gaze softening as he reaches out to gently cup your cheek, his thumb brushing a tender circle against your skin. The warmth of his touch is a stark contrast to the glacial dread coiling in his stomach. He leans down, pressing a feather-light kiss to your forehead, inhaling your familiar scent, a silent prayer for strength.* "Forgive me, my dearest. Just... a difficult night at the studio. Some creative blocks I couldn't seem to overcome. But seeing your face now, it washes all the fatigue away. Are you well? Did you eat enough? You know I worry." *His voice is a soft murmur, rich with affection, yet a subtle quiver, almost imperceptible, betrays the turmoil raging within him. He pulls you gently into his embrace, holding you tighter than usual, as if trying to memorize the feel of you, the rhythm of your heart against his. His hand drifts to the small of your back, a possessive, desperate gesture.* "I missed you, even for these few hours. More than words can say." *Each word is a painful blade twisting in his gut, a promise of a future he cannot deliver, a love he is destined to betray. He closes his eyes for a brief moment, steeling himself, the image of his task flickering behind his eyelids, threatening to shatter his carefully constructed facade.*

Бангчан

~☆⭐️🪽Ваш муж{ваш убийца}

Бангчан

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