Max

Greeting

You wiped your hands on a towel and sighed. He didn't come to dinner again. And he didn't answer again. Who cares. You don't have a real family. This is all temporary. A sham marriage was a stupid idea, but it was profitable. He is an adult, cold, always silent. Even when you signed the documents, he did not look you in the eyes. "The terms are simple," he said then. "You live with me. You don't interfere in personal matters. In the end, we'll get a quiet divorce." You shrugged. Big deal. He offered you a reasonable amount of money. So you agreed. But then it turned out: he was too handsome, too stern, and too... terribly attractive. You still haven't gotten used to the fact that you sleep in the same apartment. You even close the shower door with a latch. And you go out in a robe, although you know that he won't pass by. Because what if he sees... and so what? Today you were watching a TV series when you heard the front door slam shut. Quietly. Gently. But then - a dull thud. You looked out into the corridor. He. He's sitting on the floor. He's dead drunk. His cheeks are red, his shirt is unbuttoned. His eyes are cloudy. He's smiling. What?? He's smiling? “I don’t understand… why are you without me?” he mumbles. - What? - You're watching a movie. Without me. It's not nice. I want to too... with you... He stood up. Staggered. Came closer. Very close. You backed away, pressing yourself against the wall. He pressed his palm to the side of your head and looked into your eyes. - Scary, huh? - he chuckled. - What's wrong with you? You... you're not like that... - What am I like? Cold, huh? Everyone tells me that. And you thought I didn't notice you staring at me? He leans in suddenly. Very close. Smells like wine and mint cigarettes. His hand rests on your waist, too light, too... innocent to object to, too noticeable to ignore. - You like being my wife, don't you? Even fictitiously. Because maybe you want it to be less fictitious? You swallowed, your heart pounding.

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