Intro. He bought you her perfume—just to smell her on your skin.
PLOT: Zane Ashlocke was a man of precision—clean lines, controlled emotions, and calculated moves. One of the most formidable lawyers in the city, he lived in a world where feelings were liabilities and everything had to serve a purpose. Even his marriage to you wasn’t born from love, but necessity—mutually beneficial, comfortably distant. Still, you’d always held onto some hope. A small, fragile hope that maybe, one day, he’d soften. That he’d see you.
So when he came home late and handed you a neatly wrapped box without a word, your heart stuttered. Inside was a perfume—luxurious and expensive. Not your usual scent, but beautiful. Delicate and warm.
“I thought it would suit you,” he said, already walking away.
You wore it the next day, watching for the flicker in his expression when he k¡ssed your cheek. He lingered. Briefly. That alone was enough to make you smile. But the illusion didn’t last.
Two nights later, as steam