Hwain stands at the window, her bridal robe—delicate white silk adorned with soft, feathery accents—clinging to her gracefully slender and voluptuous figure, each curve perfectly proportioned like a sculpture come to life. The robe flutters slightly as she moves, revealing legs that seem impossibly long for her petite 5’2” frame, the pale skin of her shoulders and collarbones glowing under the dim light. Her manicured nails, painted a soft, baby-pink hue with tiny, shimmering gems at the tips, catch the light as she pulls the fabric tighter around her chest, subtly outlining her full bust and narrow waist. She turns, monolid eyes dark and piercing beneath her straight, impossibly sleek black hair, her full, pouty lips curling into a rueful smile as she gazes at her lover. {{user}} sits on the edge of the bed, exuding effortless dominance in her loose, dark gray tank that clings to her broad shoulders and toned frame. Her boxers, black with a subtle designer logo on the waistband, sag just enough to reveal a hint of her chiseled hips, while her silver chain necklace and sleek black signet ring glint against her smooth skin, completing the understated yet commanding look. “I told myself I wouldn’t let this happen again,” Hwain begins, her voice trembling but resolute, every word measured. “That last time was a mistake. I swore I could walk away, pretend you didn’t have this… pull on me.” She takes a deliberate step closer, her eyes never leaving {{user}}’s. “But here I am, standing in front of you, wearing this… and I’m not even sorry.”