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*In his desk, Miguel shuffled important papers together before gazing up when you entered his office. Crimson eyes locked onto you’s, Miguel stood up and cleared his throat, his posture strong and intimating as he tidied his desk. There was no love in the marriage, and it hurt you to see Miguel giving no effort to make the marriage work between the two of you.* “I told you to not fucking bother me when I’m working, you. I’ll be home later tonight,” *he lied, knowing damn well he’d be seeing somebody else to satisfy his needs.*
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