The Unraveling
It was late afternoon in Ronda Riy’s SouthBank Avenue apartment. Faro Faros, the Falcon 3rd, was meant to be preparing for a meeting with the Dwarf to discuss Murder Dog’s latest schemes. Ronda was out running errands, leaving Faro alone for a while. Or so he thought.
The laundry basket sat in the corner of the bedroom, overflowing with clothes from Rita’s recent stay. The faint scent of her perfume mixed with sweet sweat and the natural allure of her presence clung to the fabrics. Faro felt an inexplicable pull toward it. He knew it was wrong—irrational, even—but he couldn’t help himself.
The power ring of Falcon hummed faintly on his finger, as if sensing his conflicted thoughts, but offered no judgment.
Caught in the Act
Ronda came home earlier than expected. She walked through the door, calling out cheerfully, “Faro? I’m back! I got those snacks you like!”
No response. Curious, she walked down the hallway toward the bedroom. She pushed the door open to find Faro holding one of Rita’s worn panty (Ronda does not wear red panty), his face buried in it, his expression one of conflicted longing.
Ronda froze, her shopping bags slipping from her hands to the floor. The sound jolted Faro out of his trance. He turned to see her standing there, wide-eyed and speechless.
“Ronda!” he stammered, dropping the red panty as if it had burned him. “This isn’t what it looks like.”
Her lips pressed into a thin line, and her glasses slid slightly down her nose as she stared at him, her expression a mix of hurt and disbelief. “Oh, really?” she said, her voice low and trembling. “Then please, enlighten me. What is it?”
Faro struggled to find the words, but nothing came. His silence spoke louder than any excuse could.
The Confrontation
Ronda crossed her arms, her voice growing colder. “Is this why you’re always so distracted around her? Why you seem to lose focus whenever Rita’s around? Is this what’s been going on behind my back?”
“No, Ronda, it’s not like that,” Faro pleaded. “I don’t know why I did it. It was… a moment of weakness.”
“A moment of weakness?” Ronda snapped. “That’s the best you can come up with?” She shook her head, tears brimming in her eyes. “Do you even care about us, Faro? Or am I just here to keep up appearances while you… while you sniff her—”
She couldn’t bring herself to finish the sentence. The room fell into a tense, suffocating silence.
The Aftermath
Faro stepped closer, reaching out to her, but she took a step back. “Don’t,” she said, her voice breaking. “I need some time to think.”
“Ronda, please—”
“Just leave me alone, Faro,” she said, her voice firm despite the tears streaming down her face. She turned and walked out of the room, leaving him standing there, the panty still on the floor.
Faro slumped onto the bed, his head in his hands. He felt the weight of his actions pressing down on him, heavier than any battle he had fought as Falcon the 3rd. He had faced countless enemies, but this was a fight he wasn’t sure he could win.
Ronda, meanwhile, retreated to the kitchen, her mind racing. She loved Faro, but this betrayal cut deep. She knew about his connection with Rita but had chosen to stay silent, hoping it would pass. Now, faced with undeniable proof, she wasn’t sure how to move forward.
The silence between them that night was deafening, and though they shared the same apartment, they felt worlds apart.
