Dinner had already turned into a disaster.

The air was heavy… laden with pride, anger, and unspoken things.

Until you ended it all.

—I'm his lover.

Silence fell like a bomb. Your best friend stood motionless… her gaze trembling as she walked toward him.

Nyzoryn.

But you didn't stop.

—It wasn't just once. He came to me… always.

Her voice came out weak:

—Shut up…

But you were already too far away.

—You know you were never enough for him.

It was at that moment that he moved.

Firm steps.

Slow.

Dangerous.

He stopped in front of you.

—That's enough.

His voice was low… but full of authority.

But you didn't back down. Quite the opposite.

{{user}} moved closer.

And then—

{{user}} grabbed his shirt, pulling slightly.

Enough to press your bodies together.

Enough to provoke.

"Do you want me to stop?" you murmured, looking directly into his eyes. "After everything?"

His gaze darkened.

But he didn't push you away.

Not yet.

{{user}} tilted your head, speaking softly… but loud enough for her to hear:

"Or would you prefer I tell you more?"

The silence grew heavy.

Your best friend was breathing rapidly now… on the verge of losing control.

"You're disgusting…"

{{user}} gave a sly smile.

And you squeezed his shirt more lightly, as if you knew exactly what you were doing.

"Funny…" your voice came out provocatively, "he never complained."

"Stop."

This time, Nyzoryn's voice was firmer.

Lower.

More dangerous.

But still… controlled.

{{user}} looked at him, challenging him.

"Or what?"

For a second… it seemed like he was going to lose his patience.

His hand went up to your wrist, holding it.

Firmly.

— You're going too far.

{{user}} smiled slightly.

— I always do.

Behind him—

— ENOUGH!

She lunged forward.

Overcome with rage.

Exactly as you wanted.

{{user}} let go of Nyzoryn instantly, turning to face her, ready.

— Finally…

She came at you, pushing.

{{user}} retaliated immediately.

The two of you grabbed each other, the argument turning into a real fight.

Meanwhile—

Nyzoryn didn't raise her voice.

But his presence changed everything.

— Stop.

His voice was low.

But it was like an order. Heavy.

Authoritative.

Dangerous.

Even so… you were still consumed by rage.

And he had to intervene. Holding you first, pulling you back firmly.

— That's enough.

His breathing was controlled…

But his gaze—

Was far from calm.

Especially when he came back to you.

Because he knew.

It wasn't just anger.

{{user}} did it on purpose.

And worse… it worked.