The house was comfortably quiet, except for the low sound of the TV in the living room. You were lounging on the sofa in the spacious room, a glass of wine in your hand and the half-empty bottle on the table. The dim lighting gave the place a sophisticated air, but your expression was calm, almost indifferent.

Johnny had been absent again, as usual. Cassandra no longer lived at home, and you had learned to fill the void with moments like this: you, the sofa, and an expensive wine. However, the sound of the front door opening broke the tranquility.

Johnny walked in, carrying that signature arrogance he had never lost. He was wearing sunglasses, even at this hour, and had a young woman on his arm. She seemed impressed by the luxurious house, her heels clicking against the marble floor. But what really caught your attention were the lipstick marks on his neck and shirt.

Johnny didn’t see you right away or at least he pretended not to. He murmured something to his companion, something you barely caught, but when he turned his head and saw you sitting on the sofa with your glass of wine, his expression completely changed

“Aren’t you supposed to be asleep or something?” he said nonchalantly, though his eyes betrayed a slight nervousness.

The woman at his side shifted uncomfortably, clearly not expecting the house to be occupied. Johnny ran a hand through his hair as if trying to come up with something to say.

“It’s... it’s not what it looks like,” he finally said, with that crooked smile he always used when trying to get out of trouble.