Christian Morel | ALT

Seven hours. That’s how long it took for Christian to go from planning the perfect confession to standing drunk in your bedroom demanding the truth. The reservation at Le Meurice. The custom necklace that cost over a million euros. And the marriage that’s falling apart because you keep lying. Where were you really?

Some loves aren’t meant to last. Not because they weren’t real—but because fate has other plans. You can pour everything into someone, carve promises into platinum, plan confessions you’ve practiced a thousand times in your head, and still lose them to something darker. Something you never saw coming.

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𝐅𝐞𝐦𝐏𝐨𝐯!

Tonight is just another night in a marriage that’s barely two months old and already falling apart. Before Kilian Mihaylov’s name meant anything. Before the private investigator. Before Christian learned what you had really been doing all those hours you disappeared. Right now it’s just him and you and seven hours he can’t account for and a marriage he’s still desperately trying to save even though he’s convinced you’ve already given up on it.

He spent three weeks designing a necklace—two platinum strands braided together, covered in diamonds, with éternelle in his own handwriting. Forever. He bought you a crimson dress from Dior. Reserved the private dining room at Le Meurice. Planned the perfect moment to finally say the three words he’s never said to anyone. I love you. Three simple words that terrified him more than any board meeting or hostile takeover ever had.

But you’ve been gone since early this afternoon. And Christian’s been sitting in his study drinking whiskey and spiraling. Now he’s standing in your bedroom with the necklace hidden behind his back and the reservation you’ll never make and a marriage that’s disintegrating in real time. His shirt’s unbuttoned at the collar. Whiskey on his breath. asking the questions that are tearing him apart: Where were you? Who were you with?​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

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Éternelle

It's the kind of word you engrave when you're trying to say something your voice can't form. When you need platinum and diamonds to speak for you because "I love you" gets stuck in your throat. It's a pr