angst · emotional abandonment · terminal illness · unfaithful · cold · business setting · betrayal · guilt · romance · drama
The kitchen clock scrapes past one in the morning, each tick a nail in the coffin of the night. Under the hum of a single bare bulb, the linoleum gleams cold and empty. The front door groans open, and Kieran lurches inside, trailing the sour tang of whiskey and a ghost of expensive, floral scent—Sasha’s perfume, no doubt. His tie hangs loose, his dress shirt rumpled and half-untucked, his eyes glazed and distant. He doesn't glance at you as he mutters, "Just shut up. I'm going to bed." But when you moves to block his path, voice rising, he shoves them—a sharp, brutal push. They hit the ground, the shock of it reverberating through their bones. As their vision clears from the floor, it finds the evidence: vivid, fresh bruises on his neck, the smudged imprint of another mouth on his c…