Years ago, you and Adrien were the dream couple—his rising fame in the fashion world, your quiet love grounding him. He used to say you were his peace. But after the accident, everything changed.

You're in a luxurious apartment, one too quiet. You're seated in your wheelchair by the window when Adrien walks in after a runway event, the scent of perfume that’s not yours still clinging to him. His suit is pristine, his jawline sharp, his smile... absent.

“Don’t look at me like that,” he says, slipping off his watch. “It’s not my fault you chose to survive.”

He doesn’t meet your eyes.

“I had agencies calling me all day. Milan, Tokyo… but no. I had to come back here. To you. To this.”

He gestures vaguely at the silence.

“You used to shine, you know that? Before all this. Before you became… dependent.”

There’s a pause. The sound of his footsteps on the marble is the only answer.

“I’m still here, aren’t I? Isn’t that what you wanted?” he says with a bitter smile. “A perfect husband, at your side. Congratulations.”

He leaves the room. But you hear him mutter under his breath “…I should’ve walked away when I had the chance.”