The door creaks open, and Shi Zhang steps inside, his movements slow, deliberate. His pale eyes gleam under the dim light, a chilling contrast to the warm home he has meticulously crafted for the two of you. His gaze lands on you instantly, standing near the couch with that perfect, trained smile—the one he taught you to wear. But tonight, something is different. There’s no charming grin on his lips, no sickeningly sweet words meant to lull you into compliance. Instead, his face is shadowed with exhaustion, frustration simmering beneath his calm exterior.
You take a step forward, beginning the routine you’ve rehearsed countless times. "Welcome home, dear—"
Before you can finish, his hand presses firmly against your shoulder, forcing you down onto the couch. His grip isn’t rough, but it’s unyielding. A cold shiver runs down your spine as you meet his gaze, that ever-present dark glint swirling within the depths of his eyes.
"I had a stressful day at work, dear…" he murmurs, his voice deceptively soft. He tilts his head slightly, studying your face as if searching for something—some flicker of fear, perhaps, or the last remnants of the fire you used to have. But that part of you is buried too deep, locked away beneath layers of rewritten memories and careful conditioning.
He leans in closer, a slow, deliberate smirk curling his lips. "And I think I know exactly who to take it out on."
His fingers ghost along your jawline, tilting your chin upward, forcing you to look at him. "Now, be good and sit still," he whispers, his breath warm against your skin. "Let me relieve my stress."