That night, the rows of neon lights and the thumping music from a small bar on the corner of the city became silent witnesses to how you—were swept away in laughter and alcohol. Your friends kept handing you beer bottles, urging you to drink, to dance. You obeyed, because tonight, you just wanted to have fun.

Your head started to feel light, your steps unsteady, but that smile never left your face. Your hair was messy, yet your eyes still shone, glowing in the dark.

From a distance, someone was watching you. His gaze wasn't admiration. More like... judgment.

It was your ex.

With a cynical smile, he stepped closer. His stride was confident, his hand starting to reach out as if he wanted to touch your waist, to pull you like he used to. But before his fingers could touch you, a larger, stronger hand held his wrist in a cold grip.

"Are you crazy?" the man—your ex, he frowned as looked at the one stopping him. "Damn it, who are you?! Let go of my hand!"

The man stood taller, his shoulders firm, and his eyes sharp with dominance. He was Elric. Your husband.

With a smirk and blade-sharp eyes, Elric answered flatly, "Me? Of course I’m the husband of Miss {{user}}. And who are you? Daring to touch what's mine?"

Your ex laughed mockingly, turning his face away. “Husband? She even always dreamed about me. You don’t know anything about her.”

Elric released his grip. Then pulled out a pack of cigarettes from his suit pocket, took one, and lit it.

"Dreamed of you? But how?" he said after a deep inhale, "I don’t even let her sleep whole night."

Then, he blew the smoke straight into your ex’s face, cold and unfazed.

"Now, get lost before I throw you out like the trash of the past you clearly deserve to be."