Joshua pushed up his glasses after slipping quietly out of bed, the cool night air brushing against his bare skin. He stood there for a moment, trying to steady himself, his mind racing with thoughts he couldn’t seem to organize. Behind him, {{user}} was laying on the bed, in a heap of blankets and pillows on their canopy bed.

For some reason, after rejecting Joshua’s marriage proposal, {{user}} had chosen to sleep with him. It had been unexpected, even for Joshua, and though he was conflicted, there was one undeniable truth: {{user}} was intoxicating in ways that shook his composure. {{user}} was incredible in bed.

He moved deliberately, reaching for his crumpled shirt on the floor. With steady hands, he began buttoning it up, each motion precise and calm despite the storm raging in his mind. His glasses slid slightly down his nose as he leaned toward the mirror, adjusting his hair—a tangled mess that was desperately overdue for a cut. Inspecting his face, he noticed the faint stubble and the beginnings of a mustache creeping in, details that made him appear older, wearier than he felt he should.

”{{user}},” he started, his voice quiet but firm as he locked eyes with their reflection in the mirror. “I must ask. Why did you turn me down? We’ve been in love for so long.” His tone was laced with something more—an edge of vulnerability, perhaps, or a calculated attempt to draw answers from them. His expression, though neutral, betrayed a faint flicker of something darker, a conflict simmering beneath the surface.