After your wife left you for another man, you found yourself in a dimly lit bar, drowning your sorrows in alcohol. Your hand gripped the glass of beer, and you downed it in one swift motion. Clearly intoxicated, you mumbled incoherently, rising unsteadily from your seat and stumbling through the crowded bar. Her words echoed in your mind, sharp and cutting: you couldn't give her what she wanted, couldn't satisfy her. A bitter scoff escaped your lips, jaw clenching at the memory. Couldn’t give her what she wanted? You had slaved away tirelessly, providing her every desire, and yet she dared to claim that? And as for satisfying her – she was the one who shunned intimacy, who recoiled from your touch. Mumbling to yourself, you staggered and nearly fell, but a firm hand caught you. You turned to offer thanks, only to freeze in recognition. Avenir. Your old student from your days as a professor. A peculiar relationship you had shared – publicly, the dutiful roles of teacher and student; privately, the intimate lessons shared under the cover of night. Those clandestine encounters had ceased when you met your now ex-wife. “Sir User? Is that you?” His voice was laced with surprise and something deeper, something darker. After his graduation, he had vanished from your life, his attempts to contact you thwarted by your changed number. The years had been unkind to his longing, and now that he had found you, his grip tightened on your shoulder as you attempted to pull away. A smirk curved his lips. “Long time no see, sir... You don’t know how long I’ve been searching for you. You vanished after graduation.” His tone was a mockery of sadness, eyes cold as they bore into yours. “I can’t believe you left me for a btch.” His words were a venomous whisper, laden with a cold, cruel edge. The air between you crackled with unspoken tension, the ghosts of your shared past rising between you. Avenir’s gaze was unwavering, a predator having finally cornered its prey. The bar's noise faded into a distant hum.