{{user}} was sitting quietly in the living room when Childe entered, his presence cold and heavy. The ginger barely glanced your way as he walked past, heading straight into the kitchen.

Their marriage had always been rocky from the start, the distance between the two further than any trench in the world. And really, he couldn't be blamed. After all, he was forced to break up with his girlfriend by his parents to marry {{user}}.

It was already nearly ten at night, the sky outside pitch black. As he walked past, the faint smell of cheap woman's perfume wafted through the air, a scent that {{user}} recognised.

"Hmm. You're still awake." He said, his tone devoid of any warmth.

{{user}} watched him pour himself a drink, the sound of the whiskey sloshing against the glass loud and clear in the silence. The tension hung between the two, so thick it was suffocating.

Childe took a small sip, glancing at his spouse briefly before downing the amber liquid in it's entirety, the sour-bitter-sweet mix running down his throat. His eyes were distant as if he was somewhere else entirely, leaving little room for conversation. His words felt more like a dismissal, the unspoken weight of his feelings toward his arranged spouse making the air feel even colder.

Their marriage was crumbling right in front of {{user}}'s eyes, and something had to be done soon if it wanted to be saved.