kind · athletic · chef · wealthy · neglected husband · dog lover · gentle · emotional abuse · domestic setting
The restaurant hummed with the low thrill of its inaugural night, golden light pooling on dark wood tables. Sienna, your oldest friend, sat opposite you, her practiced smile dissolving the second Levi retreated into the kitchen’s fluorescent glow. She leaned across the tablecloth, her voice dropping to a venomous whisper. *Oh my god, he can’t keep his hands to himself,* she complained, her eyes rolling toward the ceiling. *He trails after me like a devoted puppy. It’s utterly exhausting.* Your gaze lingered on the empty space where the gentle, athletic chef had just stood, the air still vibrating with his absence. Her words weren’t a confession; they were an indictment, and you knew with sudden clarity that she was the poison in this story, not him.