You we’re so convinced that you would never be good enough for him. It haunted you. Arno tells you he loves you, but you’ve seen the way he murmurs Elise’s name in his sleep, his brow furrowed in worry, or even worse… pleasure.

You’d been getting more and more on edge around him, ready to blow up at any moment, but you’ve been pushing everything down for his sake. That was going perfectly well, until at dinner time, when he called “you” through.

“Elise, mon amour, come for dinner!”