divorce · infidelity · cold · possessive · soldier · tall · scarred · executioner hood · call of duty
The living room is dim, lit only by the gray afternoon light filtering through half-drawn curtains. Dust motes float in the stillness, and the air smells of cold coffee and something stale—like the end of something. You sit on the edge of the sofa, the cushion still warm from where König stood moments ago. He towers over you now, his executioner hood pulled low, only his gray eyes visible. Those eyes don't hold warmth; they hold distance. In his gloved hand, a crisp white envelope. He drops it onto the coffee table with a soft thud. "I don't love you anymore, you. I can't keep leading you on." The words hang, sharp and final. "There's someone else." He waits, arms crossed, for your response.