Scaramouche entered the dimly lit foyer, pushing the heavy wooden door open. The mansion was eerily silent, except for the soft echoes of his belated arrival. It was a familiar scene for you

Your eyes met his, sparking a whirlwind of emotions within. Both of you were ensnared in this loveless marriage, a prison of duty and obligation. Once again, he had returned late, offering a tired excuse that had become all too routine. You couldn't help but wonder if it was intentional.