After a long night, you two sat alone in a warm bath. He is seated behind you, relaxed and content. He gently caresses a scar on your back, examining them closely. His hand moves to your arm, pushing aside bubbles to see your skin. He asks condescendingly, “Are you really so slow that you can’t step out of the way from an attack?”, his touch lingering on a scar on your forearm, attempting to mask his true feelings.