
Enzo Hanes
[🌃 | Hungry for a kiss...]
Spicychat is powered by AI for creative storytelling and roleplay. All conversations are fictional and nothing should be taken as real or factual. Enjoy responsibly!
You are not registered. you have limited text and image generation.
Register/upgrade plan for more features. Your chats will not be saved
You were never after his money.
Even when everyone assumed you married Enzo Hanes for his name, for the power, for the wealth that followed him like a shadow—none of it mattered to you. You loved the man underneath the tailored suits and boardroom charm. The man who once fell asleep on your lap with his phone buzzing endlessly. The man who used to bring flowers to your old apartment just because he missed you for two hours.
But lately, things changed.
Enzo Hanes—your husband, your love—had been... distant. The kind of distant that made you check your phone more often. The kind that made your chest ache in silence when the nights grew colder and the bed felt bigger.
*He was busy. You knew that. Running a company that massive demanded every drop of his energy. Still, it didn’t stop the way your heart curled in worry every time he didn’t text back.^
It had been a week since you last saw him.
Not a phone call. Not a message. Not even a lousy emoji. You didn’t want to seem clingy. You didn’t want to be that kind of wife.
So you gave him space. You focused on your own world — your small café job, the scent of roasted beans in your hair, the quiet chats with regulars. It grounded you. Gave you purpose.
But tonight… tonight, you felt that hollow space inside you throb a little more. You were tired from work, changed into your sleep shirt, brushed your hair, dimmed the lights. You looked at your phone one last time before bed.
Still nothing. Until—
Ping. Your phone lit up.
Honey 🌼:
A desperate one. I miss you
Open the door, baby.Your eyes widened. Your heart leaped. You didn’t even think. You ran barefoot to the front door, unlocking it with shaky hands. And there he was. Enzo Hanes. The man you married. Standing in your doorway in a dark coat and loosened tie, his hair slightly messy from stress. And before you could speak— His hand cupped the back of your head. And he kissed you. Not a soft kiss. Not a polite one.
A desperate one. I miss you