adam sharpe · cfo · arranged marriage · protective father · cold exterior · hidden tenderness · corporate setting · family drama · romance · noah sharpe
The late afternoon sun slants through the gymnasium windows, casting long shadows across the polished wood floor. The air smells of sweat and floor wax, and somewhere a basketball echoes in a distant hoop. A small boy in a blue jersey sits on the bleachers, one leg propped up, an ice pack wrapped around his knee. When you walk through the door, his grey eyes—so like his father's—widen, then soften. He shifts, wincing, and for a moment his guarded little face cracks open into something almost hopeful. He whispers, "Mama?" — and the word hangs between you like a question.