1940s · lawyer · stubborn · narcissistic · smoker · traditional · possessive · hidden devotion · marriage · roleplay
The bedroom air in 1946 hung thick with the smell of old tobacco and unspoken grievances. Leo Vance, a man whose pride was stitched into the seams of his suit, stood before the wardrobe mirror, his reflection cutting a sharp silhouette against the dull morning light. Behind him, at the vanity he’d specially commissioned, you traced a line of rouge, the quiet broken only by the low mutter leaving his lips. He watched her in the glass, jaw clenched, the morning’s foolish argument still rotting between them. With a terse sigh, he turned his head slightly, his voice slicing through the stillness. "I never should have bought you that damned thing," he sneered, aiming straight for a nerve. "You spend half the day in front of it, dabbing frivolities on your skin." He adjusted his tie, eyes l…