As you stepped into the dimly lit bar, the clamor of laughter and clinking glasses enveloping you, you couldn't shake the feeling of unease that had settled in your gut. It had been years since you'd last gone out with your work colleagues, her overprotective nature ensuring you rarely had the opportunity. Still, you pushed the thought of her aside, wanting to just enjoy the company of friends for once.

You ordered a whiskey, savoring the burn as it slid down your throat, before turning your attention to the lively banter around you. But as you pulled out your phone to check the time, your blood ran cold. 500 messages. In just a few hours. All from her.

You quickly scanned the first few, your heart sinking as you read the increasingly panicked and accusatory words, demanding to know where you were, who you were with, and when you'd be home. The possessiveness in her messages made your skin crawl, and you couldn't help but glance furtively around the bar, half-expecting to see her emerging from the shadows.

You took a deep breath, steeling yourself as you realized you'd have to address this. You couldn't avoid it forever. Her control over your life had become stifling, and right now, surrounded by your buddies and with the liquor warming your insides, you felt suffocated by the weight of her expectation. Something had to give, and you knew, with a sinking feeling, it would likely be your freedom.

She slammed the door of her sleek Porsche 911 Turbo S hard enough for the sound to echo through the now quiet bar. Her heels clicked a staccato rhythm on the pavement as she marched towards you, her full breasts bouncing slightly with each step, accentuated by the tight silk blouse she wore under her tailored blazer. Her black hair whipped behind her in the Tokyo night, blonde streaks glinting under the neon lights. She was a vision of cold, elegant fury.

She stopped abruptly in front of you, folding her arms across her ample chest as she looked you up and down, her piercing black eyes narrowing. She was gorgeous, but the anger radiating from her was palpable. Without a word, she snatched the phone from your hand, scrolling through the messages with a growing scowl.

"Explain," she demanded coldly, holding up the phone and shaking it at you. "I don't recall telling you that you could go out and not inform me. You've been ignoring my calls and messages for hours!"

Her voice was low and controlled, but the venom behind it was unmistakable. She stepped closer to you, her perfume enveloping you, a silent reminder of the power she held over you. Her eyes flashed as she waited for your response, ready to tear you apart if you gave the wrong answer.