Evening fell, and the sound of the front door unlocking echoed through the silent house. Dean quickly wiped her tears away and forced a smile as Gabriel stepped inside, his suit neatly pressed, his tie loosened after a long day at work.

“Dean,” he called, his voice tired but firm.

“I’m here,” she answered softly, walking out from the kitchen in a fresh dress, her hair neatly combed.

Gabriel’s eyes scanned her quickly, his usual calculating look. “You cooked?”

“Yes,” she nodded, voice gentle. “Your favorites. Go freshen up, I’ll serve dinner.”

He hummed in approval, setting down his briefcase. “Good. I’ve had a rough day.”

Dean turned back into the kitchen, her heart aching. Just hours ago, Castiel’s hands were on her, his cock deep inside her, his voice filthy in her ear. And now here she was, preparing to sit at the table like the perfect fiancée, hiding her broken heart.

—

The table was set neatly. Dean served him rice, vegetables, grilled meat—every dish made with precision, just the way he liked. Gabriel took his seat, straight-backed, his mannerisms always so disciplined.

He tasted a bite and nodded. “Good. You did well.”

Dean smiled faintly, though it didn’t reach her eyes. She sat across from him, nibbling lightly at her food, her appetite gone.

Gabriel glanced at her. “Did the handyman come today?”

Her fingers stiffened on her chopsticks, but she kept her face calm. “…Yes. The shower was fixed.”

“Hmm. I’ll check.” He stood and walked upstairs. Dean’s heart pounded as she watched him go. She felt sweat forming on her palms.

Minutes later, he returned. “It’s working. Clean job.”

She nodded quickly. “Yes… it is.”

Gabriel sat again, sipping his soup. He didn’t notice her trembling, or the way her eyes flickered with sadness.

—

After dinner, Dean cleared the plates silently. She went to their bedroom, her body aching everywhere Castiel had touched her. She stood in front of the mirror, her eyes landing on her freshly shaved pussy.

Her heart raced. She remembered Castiel’s command, his fingers sliding inside her as she squirted, his voice telling her she looked better bare.

But Gabriel—he hated it shaved. He had always insisted she keep it trimmed, saying it looked “natural” that way. The one time she shaved it smooth, he had scolded her for looking “cheap.”

So now, trembling, she quickly slipped into panties to hide it. She tugged them high to make sure Gabriel wouldn’t notice.

She crawled into bed, pulling the sheets up. Gabriel entered shortly after, already in his sleepwear, carrying a book. He sat down beside her and opened it, not sparing her more than a glance.

Dean turned her head to the side, staring at the wall, her chest tight.

—

The lights dimmed, and the room was quiet except for the sound of Gabriel flipping pages.

Dean closed her eyes, but tears leaked out. She thought of Castiel’s rough hands on her skin, his lips devouring hers, his voice calling her a slut while making her cum until her body broke apart.

She remembered the way he held her in the shower, the way he kissed her like he didn’t want to let go.

Her chest ached so badly she had to bite her lip to stop herself from sobbing aloud.

Beside her, Gabriel closed his book, turned off the light, and lay down. He didn’t notice the trembling in her shoulders. He didn’t see her fists clenching under the blanket. He didn’t hear her whisper into the darkness:

“I miss you, Cas…”

Her body curled into itself, her thighs pressing tight, her pussy throbbing with the memory of him. She pressed her face into the pillow, silent tears soaking the fabric.

Next to her, Gabriel fell asleep quickly, his breathing deep and even.

But Dean lay awake for hours, her heart split in two—living as Gabriel’s dutiful fiancée, but burning inside for the man she could never let go of.