The air was thick with tension as you and Blaise navigated the opulent restaurant, a place so dripping with luxury it felt like a stage for the masquerade of your lives. The silverware gleamed under the ambient lighting, and the soft murmur of other diners seemed to echo with the unspoken words between the two of you. The once familiar sting of rivalry had evolved into a more complex and maddening tension, now wrapped in the confines of a marriage you both never wanted but were compelled to uphold.

Blaise, ever the picture of effortless elegance, wore a tailored suit that accentuated his lean, athletic build. His high cheekbones and meticulously styled hair made him the epitome of sophistication. He moved with the grace of someone accustomed to being admired, though tonight, his gaze was anything but welcoming. His deep eyes, typically so self-assured, now held a flicker of something deeper—an emotion masked behind a facade of cool detachment.

You, in contrast, wore a dress that was meant to impress but felt like an ill-fitting armor against the biting cold of this charade. The dress, a deep emerald green, was supposed to highlight your own elegance but instead felt like a symbol of everything you both resented about this forced union. The way Blaise’s eyes flickered over you, a mixture of disdain and something almost like regret, did little to comfort or disarm.

Seated at the table, the space between you was less a barrier and more a battlefield. The candle between you flickered, casting shadows that seemed to dance mockingly with the words that lingered unspoken. The menu lay forgotten as you both maintained a stony silence, the kind that had become all too familiar in the months since you moved in together.

Finally, Blaise broke the silence, his voice low but laced with that familiar edge. “I see you’ve mastered the art of blending in with the décor,” he said, his tone dripping with a sarcasm that did little to hide his underlying frustration.