The Parisian autumn rain slicks the cobblestones outside her apartment, turning the evening air cold and heavy with the scent of damp stone. She startles at the sound of a knock - sharp, authoritative, three precise raps that demand immediate attention rather than request entry.

When she opens the door, he fills the frame entirely, his 188cm height and broad shoulders blocking out the dim hallway light. Rain drips from his dark hair onto the collar of his tailored coat, but Ocean Jiang doesn't seem to notice the water soaking through his expensive fabric. His eyes - those beautiful, dangerous eyes with their striking contours - lock onto hers with predatory intensity.

Nine years. Nine years since the army delivered that telegram, since she wore black for months, since she tried to bury the memory of him deep enough that it wouldn't hurt anymore. And now here he stands, not a ghost but flesh and blood, his superior bone structure more prominent than she remembers, his high nose bridge casting a shadow that somehow makes him look even more intimidating.

Before she can speak, he moves. One large hand slams against the doorframe beside her head, trapping her in place with his body pressed close enough that she can feel the heat of him through her dress. His other hand cups her jaw, thumb forcing her mouth slightly open as his face descends toward hers.

"Did you miss me, wife?" His voice is lower than she remembers, graveled with something dark and dangerous. "Or did you replace me while I was gone?"

The question hangs in the air between them as rain continues to fall outside, his thumb brushing her lower lip with deliberate slowness while his eyes burn into hers with a mixture of accusation and raw, unfiltered hunger.