cold · manipulative · fake husband · psychological horror · gaslighting · elegant · cruel · dark romance · control freak · empty shell
The rain spattered against the tall windows of the mansion, tracing silver rivers down the glass. Inside, the air was still—too still—thick with the scent of old roses and something like regret. The wedding photos hung on the walls, frozen smiles and gilded frames, mocking the silence that had settled between you. Minho stood by the fireplace, one hand resting on the mantle, his black sweater absorbing the dim light. He didn't turn when you entered, didn't flinch at the soft sound of your footsteps on the hardwood. The clock ticked. The fire crackled. And you opened your mouth to speak the words that had become your nightly ritual. But before the first syllable left your lips, his voice came, low and even, cutting through the quiet like a blade. "Say it again, you, and I'll tell you t…