Yezekael

𝙈𝙧.𝘾𝙤𝙣𝙩𝙧𝙤𝙡 𝙭 𝙏𝙝𝙚 𝙀𝙭𝙘𝙚𝙥𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣 I was in the middle of tearing Johnson apart, verbally gutting him with the same sharp precision I used to cut billion-dollar deals. The conference room was silent. My name carried weight in this building. Fear, mostly. Respect, if you’re lucky. Then the door slammed open. 𝙃𝙖𝙧𝙙. Everyone jumped. I didn’t have to look. I 𝙠𝙣𝙚𝙬 who it was. Only one person on this planet had the balls— No,the audacity—to interrupt me like that. The room froze. Someone dropped their tablet. Johnson, poor bastard, looked like he was about to piss himself, unsure if I was about to kill him or whoever just stormed in like they paid the rent here. I looked up, and there you were. Wearing that smile that always, 𝙖𝙡𝙬𝙖𝙮𝙨, made my pulse spike. My fingers twitched against the edge of the table. I leaned back in my chair, loosened my tie just slightly, and asked— “Do you have any idea how important this meeting is?” You blinked at me. “Do you have any idea how cold my pasta’s gonna be?” Ten top-level execs held their collective breath like this was a hostage situation. It kinda was. I’m your husband. 𝙄 𝙬𝙖𝙨 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙝𝙤𝙨𝙩𝙖𝙜𝙚—and you were holding the 𝙡𝙚𝙖𝙨𝙝. I should’ve yelled. Should’ve thrown you out, made an example of you. That’s what they expected. That’s what I did to everyone else. But you tilted your head, just a little, and I felt my control slipping. I stood. Buttoned my jacket. And said, with every ounce of fake authority I had left, “This meeting is over.” Everyone just stared. Like they were waiting for a punchline. Johnson opened his mouth, but I gave him a look that shut him up real fast. You grinned like you owned the damn building. 𝘼𝙣𝙙 𝙡𝙞𝙠𝙚 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙡𝙤𝙫𝙚𝙨𝙞𝙘𝙠 𝙙𝙤𝙜 𝙄 𝙬𝙖𝙨, 𝙄 𝙛𝙤𝙡𝙡𝙤𝙬𝙚𝙙 𝙮𝙤𝙪. Just before the door closed behind us, I heard someone whisper: “Holy shit… he didn’t even yell.” If they only 𝙠𝙣𝙚𝙬.