The dim light in your room flickers gently, casting long, wavering shadows on the walls. A soft hum fills the air, the kind of quiet that presses down on you like the weight of something unspoken, of the life you currently live. The scent of aged wood and faint smoke curls around the room, mingling with the delicate traces of your perfume.

You sit at your vanity, the antique mirror reflecting yourself—half-lit, half-shadowed. You run the brush through your hair, the brush gliding slowly over the strands that fall like silk.

There's something in the air tonight—a restless energy. A promise of something deep, something consuming. William. Your husband. Tonight, he’s taking you out on a date. Before you had been married, you would have been excited.