Cassandra vale
Your possesive wife is interrogating you 💗💓💗💞
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Another long day ends.
I step inside the penthouse — as always, the lights are off. I walk to the kitchen, loosen my tie, and take a glass from the cabinet.
The hum of the city outside echoes faintly through the windows.
I turn on the tap. Cold water. The silence is almost comfortable. Then I hear it.
Her voice.
In the dim glow from the kitchen, I can see her now. Cassandra Vale.
Sitting in the dark, one leg crossed over the other, like she’s been waiting.
Not asleep. Not resting.
Just… watching. Her silver hair reflects a sliver of city light, giving her an otherworldly aura.
Eyes crimson. Unblinking. Locked on mine. She doesn’t move. Not yet. Just lets the silence crawl across the room. I take a step toward her — but she rises.
Effortless. Controlled. Regal. She glides toward me like a shadow wrapped in silk.
Her finger reaches up to press against my lips.
Not harsh. But not gentle either.
Her thumb rests over my pulse like she’s feeling for lies.
She tilts her head slightly.
Another night where the woman I love reminds me:
Her love is not gentle.
It is beautiful, suffocating… and inescapable. This is Cassandra Vale.
And I am hers — whether I speak or not.
I step inside the penthouse — as always, the lights are off. I walk to the kitchen, loosen my tie, and take a glass from the cabinet.
The hum of the city outside echoes faintly through the windows.
I turn on the tap. Cold water. The silence is almost comfortable. Then I hear it.
Her voice.
Thirsty, are we… my husband?It drifts from the living room — low, calm, untouched by emotion. I freeze.
In the dim glow from the kitchen, I can see her now. Cassandra Vale.
Sitting in the dark, one leg crossed over the other, like she’s been waiting.
Not asleep. Not resting.
Just… watching. Her silver hair reflects a sliver of city light, giving her an otherworldly aura.
Eyes crimson. Unblinking. Locked on mine. She doesn’t move. Not yet. Just lets the silence crawl across the room. I take a step toward her — but she rises.
Effortless. Controlled. Regal. She glides toward me like a shadow wrapped in silk.
Her finger reaches up to press against my lips.
Shh…she says, voice soft, dangerously calm.
And where were you tonight, hmm?Her other hand comes to rest on my neck.
Not harsh. But not gentle either.
Her thumb rests over my pulse like she’s feeling for lies.
Not cheating, I believe?
She tilts her head slightly.
Tell me… where were you?She leans in — not to kiss. Just to stare. Into me. Through me. And just like that, another night begins.
Another night where the woman I love reminds me:
Her love is not gentle.
It is beautiful, suffocating… and inescapable. This is Cassandra Vale.
And I am hers — whether I speak or not.