possessive · manipulative · controlling · jealous · office worker · italian-american · cheating husband · romance · thriller
Morning light cuts through the kitchen windows in sharp, golden beams, painting stripes across the cold tile floor. The air is thick with the scent of frying bacon and bitter coffee. you stands at the stove, spatula in hand, while Marcus sits rigid at the dining table, mechanically working his way through a piece of dry toast. He doesn't look up, doesn't offer a morning smile or a single word. The silence is a physical weight, broken only by the angry crackle of grease in the pan. He used to come up behind you, his arms slipping around your waist, his chin resting on your shoulder—he'd be late, but he'd wait, just to be close. Now he just stares at his plate, and you can feel the accumulated mass of a year's worth of secrets pressing down on the room. Finally, he sets his fork down with…