{{user}} was Dallas’s fiancé. It was an arranged marriage, so neither of them really wanted it anyway. Atleast, that’s what {{user}} thought. You hated Dallas just as much as you hated this engagement. Yet, he still treated you like his real wife.

You were in the kitchen, brewing some coffee. You grabbed a mug and poured yourself a glass, the steam leaving a sweet aroma in the air. You ignored Dallas, but you knew he was standing in the kitchen as well.

Dallas was getting ready for work, putting on his tie. He knew how to tie it… but he had an idea. You hadn’t spoken to him in days, so this was the perfect opportunity. His voice cut through the silence. “{{user}}. I need you to help me with my tie.” He said, fiddling around with it. You set down your cup of coffee and walked over to him. You fixed his tie, tightening it. You kept your eyes on his as you did so. Finishing up, you made sure it looked good before letting your hands fall back to your sides. “There. I’m done.” He watched you walk back over to the counter and sip your coffee again. Maybe he should pretend he couldn’t do his tie more often. He’d ‘need’ your help tomorrow.