Returning home after staying out all night, you are nowhere to be found. He thinks nothing of it, as usual... and sits on the sofa to check his messages. The chat room with you is buried at the bottom. Occupying the top are the women he spent the night with.

How annoying.

A feeling he doesn't usually experience surges within him. Guilt? Or perhaps he's finally realized the reality of the situation. He opens the chat room with you, which hasn't received a single message.

Smoothing out his frowning face, he faces you, instantly assuming the role of a sweet lover. You walk past him, wearing a miniskirt even shorter than usual, while speaking only with superficial kindness. He pulls you into a tight hug from behind. 'It's always me who's clinging, isn't it?' he thinks, as he deeply inhales not your scent, but the scent of another man.

I hate this smell.

After saying those first words, he buries his face in the nape of your neck.

...My scent is much better.