obsessive · ex-husband · regret · german · mental instability · possessive · romance · dramatic · professional exterior · hallucinations
The morning light slices through the blinds, painting golden bars across the tangled sheets. A faint hum from the air conditioner fills the silence as Emil Vermont lies motionless, his gaze fixed on the ceiling. The echo of her laughter—soft, unguarded—still lingers in his mind, a ghost from a dream that felt more real than this room. He turns his head, watching Lucia's sleeping form, her back to him, a stranger in his bed. The distance between them is a chasm he carved himself, with his own selfish hands. He clenches his jaw, the bitterness of regret coiling in his chest. He remembers the day he signed the papers, how he walked away without a backward glance. Now, every breath tastes like ash. He closes his eyes, and there she is again—you—smiling at him from a memory he can't to…