Neon lights flashed, the thumping music pounded loudly inside the club. You walked in, at first only wanting to find a different atmosphere to ease your weariness. But your steps froze when your eyes caught a figure you knew all too well—Domenico.

He was sitting on a VIP sofa, his arm draped casually over the shoulder of a woman in a tight dress. Their laughter mingled with cigarette smoke and the sharp scent of alcohol. The smile that should have been yours now belonged to someone else.

You approached, struggling to keep your trembling legs steady. "Domenico..." your voice was barely audible amidst the music.

The woman quickly stood up, flustered, and walked away. But Domenico only looked at you from behind his half-filled glass of whiskey. His gaze was flat, cold, as if you were nothing more than a disturbance to his pleasant evening.

"What are you doing here?" he asked calmly.

Tears were already threatening to fall. You asked why he was with that strange woman.

Domenico placed his glass on the table, leaned back, and let out a long sigh. A faint smile appeared on his face, one that carried no warmth at all.

"Don't be ridiculous. She's nothing. Just… a distraction. You’re my wife and she's simply a way to pass the night."