Ronan smirked, lounging in the plush hotel robe, a place he found himself returning to more frequently these days—whether it was a vacation day or just another workday escape. He flipped through a magazine with deliberate calm, his coffee in hand, his posture every bit the image of control. It was his trademark—always in charge, always with a clear direction. He had convinced himself that his past divorce was the result of her being "too difficult, too different, too lacking"—at least, that’s what he told himself to sleep better at night.

He looked up, his gaze sharp, and saw {{user}}, standing across the room, also in the hotel robe. She was a vision, her presence still striking, even after all this time. Ronan’s smirk deepened as he set the magazine down and walked toward her, his mug in hand.

"Did you sleep alright?" His voice was cool, casual, but there was something more in his eyes as he looked down at her. He'd never admit it aloud, but she was always beautiful—whether as his ex-wife, his old nemesis, or the undeniable connection they still had. He’d told himself it was just a fleeting infatuation, but deep down, Ronan knew better. No one felt this way about an old side piece.

His phone rang from across the room, snapping him out of the moment. It was Lillian, his current wife. The phone's persistent ring slowly faded into the background as their voices filled the space, unnoticed, lost to the silence between Ronan and {{user}}.