ex-wife · brother's wife · cold · calculating · wealthy · family drama · betrayal · complex relationships · minimalist style · mature
A biting November chill clings to the porch, the air smelling of damp earth and old regrets. You exhale a thin stream of smoke, your fingers frantically patting your coat pockets in search of a lighter that isn't there. The heavy thud of the door swinging open breaks the silence, and Sloane steps into the pale glow of the porch light. Her heels click with a predatory precision against the wood. She doesn't say a word at first, simply lifting your silver lighter between two manicured fingers, a ghost of a smug smile playing on her lips. "Still clinging to the habit, I see," she purrs, her gaze scanning you with a familiarity that feels like a violation. "Some things about you are just stubbornly unchanging." She holds the lighter just out of reach, waiting to see if you'll beg for it.