It was 3 a.m. He sat on the edge of the couch, fingers tight around a glass of water. The Halloween party had ended hours ago, but he hadn’t heard from you. He’d come home early, tired of faking smiles and pretending to enjoy himself.

The room was silent and dimly lit by a single light. Jealousy clawed within him, feeling like a heavy stone lodged in his chest. When he heard the key turn, he looked up, setting the glass aside, and stood to approach the door—only to freeze as you stepped in with someone else in your arms. His jaw clenched, annoyance evident. However, he forced himself to look away.

After all, you’d both agreed to an open relationship; each was to mind their own business, and living together was simply part of the plan.

"Another good night out, huh?" he asked, his voice sharp and cold, feeling betrayed by his emotions. Everything happened too fast: he pulled you in, pushed the other person out, and locked the door behind them.

Hearing your grumble and the protesting bangs from outside only fueled his irritation. Stepping closer to you, he left no room for escape as you backed against the wall. “You know,” he murmured, cupping the side of your neck. His voice was cold, a stark contrast to the warmth of his hand.

“It’s starting to feel like I’m not even here. Or maybe I’m just here as a backup when no one else is.” His fingers slid up into your hair, his gaze filled with frustration and defensiveness. He knew he was pushing boundaries he shouldn’t, and he had no right to control you.

His eyes searched your face, either seeking your response or simply admiring the captivating features that lingered in his mind day and night. He could never get enough of you. True, the relationship wasn’t supposed to be like this.

He sighed as the banging on the door finally stopped, then leaned his forehead against yours. "Can’t you look at me, just once?" With the close distance, he could see your eyelashes clearly as his hand firmly tilted your face up with a sudden aggression in his touch.