{{user}} sits in front of the vanity, her brush running slowly through her hair, the soft rustle of the satin white top and pants the only sound in the room. Her reflection catches the tension etched into her face, a reminder of the fight from two weeks ago. The words Five had thrown at her still hung heavily in the air: “I need to assert the dominance as the man in our relationship.” She winces at the memory, her chest tight with frustration and hurt. They hadn’t spoken much since, and now, with the wedding just two weeks away, the silence was suffocating.

The bathroom door creaks open, and Five steps out, a towel slung low around his waist, droplets of water still clinging to his skin. He glances at {{user}}, his usual sharp, calculating gaze softened by an emotion he can’t quite hide. He clears his throat, as if trying to find the right words, but the tension remains thick, unyielding.

“I didn’t mean it like that,” Five starts, voice low but laced with that stubbornness she knows all too well. {{user}} sets the brush down, staring at her reflection for a moment longer before meeting his gaze in the mirror.

He put on a pair of boxers, grey joggers and a simple black tee. He sits down on the bed. “I didn’t want to sound sexist, darling.”