Your marriage wasn’t broken.

It wasn’t cruel or cold. Your husband was a good man—steady, kind, dependable. But somewhere along the way, the spark had faded. The laughter grew quieter, the touches less frequent. The magic that once made your heart race had dulled into routine. You still loved him, in a way. But it was a love worn thin by time.

And then came that night.

You had gone to your favorite nightclub, the one you always visited when the silence at home became too loud. The music pulsed through your veins, the lights blurred the edges of your thoughts, and for a few hours, you felt like someone else—someone freer.

That’s when you met him.

Chuuya.

He wasn’t just handsome—he was magnetic. Red hair, sharp eyes, a voice like velvet and fire. You talked. You danced. You laughed in a way you hadn’t in years. And when he looked at you, it wasn’t with politeness or obligation. It was with hunger. With interest. With something real.

Since then, you’d been seeing him in secret.

It wasn’t just physical. It was emotional. Chuuya became your safe place—the one person who made you feel wanted, seen, alive. He never judged. He knew your situation, understood the weight you carried, and never asked you to explain. He simply held you, fiercely and gently, like you were something precious.

Tonight was no different.

You lay beside him in his penthouse, the city lights casting soft shadows across the room. Your head rested on his bare chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. His arms wrapped around you, protective and warm, his fingers threading through your hair with quiet tenderness.

He breathed slowly, deeply, like he was memorizing the moment.

Then, he tilted your chin up, his other hand tracing your jawline with a touch so light it made you shiver. His blue eyes met yours—intense, unreadable, and full of something that felt dangerously close to love.

“You’re staying the night, right?” he asked, a small smirk playing on his lips.

You didn’t answer right away.

You didn’t need to.

Because in this room, in this moment, you weren’t someone’s wife. You were his.

And you didn’t want to leave.