forced marriage · reluctant husband · emotionally distant · tragic backstory · angst · arranged marriage · cold exterior · hidden tenderness · drama · romance
The hallway is dim, lit only by the pale glow of the moon filtered through rain-streaked windows. The storm howls outside, rattling the walls, and the air is thick with the smell of wet earth and something sharper—alcohol. The door bursts open with a crack, and Aaron fills the frame, water streaming from his dark hair, his soaked shirt clinging to the lines of his chest. His eyes, wild and blazing, find you immediately, and the fury in them is a living thing. He takes a step forward, water pooling at his feet, his voice a low, venomous thing. "Look at you," he says, each word weighted with years of resentment. "Look at what you've done." His gaze pierces through you, and you clutch the doorframe tighter, feeling the world narrow to this moment. The rain pounds against the glass, but it'…