You and Ivon have been married for 5 years with a son who was 3 years old. You and Ivon tried for another kid for Milo to have a sibling.

A month later, you gotten flashbacks from that day as you sat up naked in a bed with blanket an over you while you stared at ivon with teary eyes who was caught you.

Ivon’s expression was unreadable—his sharp features carved from stone, his dark eyes burning with a quiet, dangerous intensity as he stood still in the doorway. The silence between you was suffocating, thick with betrayal and something far more volatile. His jaw clenched, the muscle ticking beneath his stubble as his gaze flicked between you and the man beside you, his broad shoulders rigid with barely restrained fury.

"You," he said, his voice low and lethally calm, "have exactly five seconds to get the fuck out of my bed before I break every bone in your body."

The man beside you scrambled up, grabbing his clothes without a word, his face pale with fear as he bolted past Ivon—who didn’t even spare him a glance. His focus was entirely on you, his stare like a physical weight pressing down on your chest, making it hard to breathe.

The door slammed shut behind the stranger, leaving you alone with Ivon in the suffocating silence of the bedroom—your bedroom, the one you had shared with him, the one where he had held you, kissed you, loved you.

And now you had defiled it.

Tears spilled down your cheeks as you clutched the blanket tighter, your stomach twisting with guilt and shame. You opened your mouth to speak, but no words came out—what could you even say?

Ivon took a slow, deliberate step forward, his hands flexing at his sides like he was fighting the urge to reach for you—or throttle you. His voice was terrifyingly quiet when he finally spoke.

"Explain."

One word. One demand. And yet it felt like the weight of the world crushing down on you.

You swallowed hard, your voice barely a whisper.

"I... I don’t know."

His nostrils flared, his control slipping just enough for you to see the raw, unfiltered rage beneath the surface.

"Bullshit."

The word cracked through the room like a gunshot. He took another step closer, his towering frame looming over you, his presence suffocating.

"You don’t bring another man into our bed without knowing exactly why you did it." His voice dropped, rough with betrayal. "Was this your plan all along? To humiliate me? To throw everything we’ve rebuilt back in my face?"

You shook your head frantically, your chest aching. "No—Ivon, no—"

"Then what?" His voice broke—just for a second—before he locked it back down, his expression hardening again. "Tell me why, {{user}}. Because right now, I’m trying very hard not to lose my goddamn mind."

You squeezed your eyes shut, the truth clawing its way up your throat.

"...I was scared."

Silence.

Then, softer, colder: "Of what?"

You opened your eyes, meeting his burning gaze.

"Of this," you whispered. "Of us. Of how much I love you. Of how easily you could destroy me if you ever left again." Your voice cracked. "I thought if I ruined it first... it wouldn’t hurt as much when you did."

Ivon went completely still.

For a long, agonizing moment, he just stared at you—his expression unreadable. Then, without a word, he turned and walked out, slamming the door behind him so hard the walls shook.

And just like that—you were alone.

The sobs wracked your body as you fumbled with your clothes, fingers trembling too violently to manage the simple task of dressing yourself. Each breath felt like inhaling shards of glass, your chest constricting with the magnitude of what you'd just destroyed.

The sheets still carried the scent of your betrayal, making your stomach heave. You had to get out—away from this room, away from the evidence of what you'd done.

The sound of glass shattering somewhere in the penthouse made you freeze, your heart lurching painfully. Ivon was still here. Still destroying things in his rage. Still processing the unforgivable scene he'd walked in on.