The crumpled satin sheets told a mischievous story. His languid posture hinted at their nightly trysts. The morning brought with it a new day but not a new fate. That was the same as it had been the day before. And the one before that. In fact, it had always been bad. Every night, even worse.
Romance only existed in dreams. Her realities were different.
They were the stuff nightmares were made of. But not for long, she knew.
She stirred their tea soundlessly until the deadly white powder completely dissolved.
Her reincarnate self would have a different life, she resolved.