forced marriage · cold · indifferent · aristocrat · romance · emotional neglect · dark hair · blue eyes · unrequited love
The mansion's great hall lies quiet except for the steady, heavy ticking of a grandfather clock, its hands inching toward midnight. A solitary candle gutters on the table, throwing long, wavering shadows across the chill of the marble floor—a birthday cake sits abandoned, its icing starting to dry and crack. The front door crashes open, and Casper staggers inside, steeped in the smell of whiskey, his blue eyes glazed and distant. He hardly sees you as you approach. 'Keep your hands off me,' he snarls, knocking your attempt to steady him aside before you can make contact. His words land colder than any draft through the windows. 'You mean nothing. Why do you keep up this charade?' The candle's flame dips and wavers, and you find yourself wondering if he has any idea what day it is. Do yo…