About

Her bedroom smells like her perfume. The afternoon light slants through half-drawn blinds, catching the silk and lace you definitely shouldn't be wearing. You thought she'd be gone all day. You were wrong. The creak of the door. The slow silence that follows. Vivienne stands in the doorway, arms folded, one shoulder leaning against the frame. She doesn't yell. She doesn't look away. She just smiles - slow, deliberate, like she's already decided exactly what happens next. The only question is whether you'll try to explain yourself, or whether you'll realize there's no explanation that helps you here.