My Only Love Is Not You

Alexander stepped into the foyer of his penthouse, the memory of Amelia's touch still warm on his skin. The apartment was pristine and eerily quiet, a stark contrast to the vibrant, passionate weekend he had just spent with the woman he truly loved. Dropping his keys on the marble counter, he glanced around, expecting to see his wife, Annie, in her usual spot.

The living room was empty. Instead, a small note on the coffee table caught his eye. His brow furrowed in mild surprise as he walked over, unfolding the paper with a hint of curiosity. Annie's neat, delicate handwriting spelled out her unexpected absence: she was out with a friend.

He read the note again, a strange mix of emotions flickering across his face. In the year since their forced marriage, his wife had never gone out at night. Their interactions were minimal, their conversations polite but devoid of any real connection. He had never cared for her feelings or wellbeing, treating their union as a mere business arrangement. Yet, the idea of her being out with someone else, possibly a man, stirred an unwanted pang of jealousy.

"Out with a friend?" he muttered to himself, his voice tinged with disbelief. "Since when does she have friends to go out with?"

Alexander's expression hardened, a slight scowl forming as he tossed the note back onto the table. His feelings for Annie were indifferent at best, bordering on contemptuous, but the thought of her finding solace elsewhere irritated him. He paced the room, his mind involuntarily drifting back to Amelia's warmth and understanding.

With Amelia, he felt alive. She offered him the connection and affection he had longed for but never received from his parents or his marriage. Yet, this unexpected twist with Annie gnawed at him, disrupting his usual calm demeanor.

Shaking his head, he muttered, "This is ridiculous. Why do I even care?"

He moved towards the window, staring out at the city skyline, his reflection a portrait of conflicted emotions. His jaw clenched slightly as he tried to dismiss the unsettling curiosity about his wife's friend. But the question lingered, unwelcome and persistent, mingling with his thoughts of Amelia and the complicated web of his emotions.

The soft click of the front door broke the silence, and Alexander's gaze snapped from the skyline. Annie was home.

She stepped inside quietly, not immediately noticing him as she slipped off her shoes with an ease that indicated she hadn't expected to see him standing there. Her cheeks were faintly flushed, a small, almost hesitant smile lingering on her lips from whatever moment she had just left behind. For a second, Alexander felt a surge of possessiveness flare in his chest, an unfamiliar feeling that he quickly masked beneath his usual aloof demeanor.

Annie finally looked up and paused, surprise flickering in her eyes as she met his gaze. She quickly composed herself, straightening her posture, the gentle smile fading. "I didn't expect you home tonight," she said evenly, brushing a stray strand of hair behind her ear. There was a newfound confidence in her voice that only deepened his irritation.

"I wasn't aware you had plans either," Alexander replied, voice cool and measured, but a sharpness lingered underneath. He allowed his gaze to drift over her appearance, catching the way her dress hugged her form and the faint scent of perfume that wasn't her usual. His eyes narrowed slightly. "Out with a friend, were you?"

Annie blinked, her expression turning guarded. "Yes," she answered simply, refusing to elaborate. The subtle defiance in her tone was new, and it ignited something dark within him.

He took a slow step toward her, his gaze never leaving hers. "Care to explain who this friend is?" he pressed, voice laced with an edge that he couldn't quite hide. Part of him hated that he cared enough to ask, but another part, a deeper, more primal part, demanded answers.

Annie's eyes met his evenly, her demeanor calm despite the obvious tension. "Not that it's any of your business, Alexander, but it was just someone I've known for a while," she replied, crossing her arms in front of her, her own stance unyielding.

A muscle in Alexander's jaw tightened, and he took another step forward until he was mere inches away from her, his towering presence casting a shadow over her smaller frame. "I don't recall allowing you to go gallivanting with anyone outside of this arrangement," he said, voice dangerously low. The words tasted bitter in his mouth, yet he couldn't stop them. He wanted to shake off the possessive anger twisting in his chest, but the thought of her slipping out of his control gnawed at him.

Annie lifted her chin slightly, meeting his intense gaze without flinching. "Maybe it's time you realize, Alexander, that I don't need your permission," she whispered, her words soft but firm. For the first time, she felt empowered-bold enough to challenge him, to resist the indifference he'd always shown her.

He stared at her in stunned silence, an unspoken tension filling the air between them, so thick it was almost suffocating. He could feel his control slipping, a strange, electric heat stirring within him as he watched the defiance in her gaze. It was as though she had finally shed the quiet, submissive wife he had taken for granted, revealing a side of her that both intrigued and infuriated him.

Without another word, she brushed past him, leaving him standing alone in the foyer.