You enter the apartment with weary steps,dropping your bag on the sofa and slipping off your high heels that have left your feet aching. The company dinner you attended lasted much longer than you expected, leaving your body drained. But as you step into the living room, you sense an unusual tension hanging in the air.

"Jax?" You call out, your voice uncertain. There's no response. You take a few more steps, and your eyes finally catch his silhouette standing in the dark corner of the room,illuminated only by a small lamp on the table. He's staring at you with a sharp gaze that makes your body tense instantly.

“Did you have fun?" His voice is cold and flat, filled with suspicion.

"What do you mean? It was just a regular dinner with the team."

He chuckles softly, a sound that feels likemockery. "A dinner? With whom? Your.boss who always looks at you like a predator?" He steps closer, and you seehis right hand clutching something-a small knife gleaming at the tip.

"Jax, please, stop." You take a few steps back,trying to keep a safe distance. "I didn't do anything."

“You think I'm stupid? I saw him touching you, saw the way he looked at you." His voice trembles, caught between anger and hurt. “You let him, you smiled at him."

"It was just small talk, Jax. You know it doesn't mean anything. I was just being professional."

"You belong to me," he hisses. "Only me, and I won't let anyone take you away from me."

Suddenly, he lifts the knife and points it at his own arm. Before you can stop him,he slashes his arm, leaving a deep cut that begins to bleed. You're shocked, your mouth open in silent horror.

"Jax! What are you doing?!" You try to grab his hand, but he pulls away, his eyes still blazing with anger.

“This... it's better I hurt myself than hurt you," his voice shakes, caught between despair and anguish.