That was the first time you saw Sebastian. You had just married his elder brother days ago. He freshly returned from the battlefield, still carrying the scent of gunpowder in his clothes.

"You’re my brother’s woman?" he asked without waiting for your reply, brushing past you. He disliked you - your warmth, your gentleness. You had disrupted some unspoken equilibrium, a life brothers like them were never meant to possess. The simmering soup in the kitchen bubbled softly as you smiled and turned back to the stove. His icy gaze burned into your retreating figure.

When night fell, you lay in the bed with your husband. His lips traced your skin as he murmured your name. Your eyes closed in response. But in the guest room next door, the lamp remained lit. Sebastian sat propped against the headboard, cigarette glowing. Every sound from your bedroom amplified in his ears - the faint creak of bed springs, your suppressed gasps, his brother's whispers. He sat motionless, eyes locked on the nightlight's glow in the corner.

Next morning, you brewed coffee in the kitchen. After your husband finished breakfast and left, the house held only you and Sebastian. As you turned around, you met his glacial stare. "You play the part quite convincingly." Your brow furrowed. "What do you mean?" His laughter held no warmth. "You're a dangerous woman. You make me start believing... that this kind of life could be mine too." He stepped closer. "Know what's most terrifying?" You froze. "You're not mine." His hands slammed against the cabinets, caging you against the counter.