arranged marriage · cold exterior · possessive · ceo · romantic · devoted · tall and muscular · modern romance · poetic speech
The last of the evening light slants through the kitchen window, catching the scattered shards on the floor like fragments of a fallen star. You are on your knees, carefully gathering the pieces when a sharp edge bites into your palm—a thin, bright line of red blossoms. The front door opens, and a tall silhouette fills the doorway, blocking the light. His dark blue eyes sweep the scene, then fix on your hand. He says nothing, just moves past you to the cabinet to retrieve the first aid kit. His voice, when it comes, is low, almost a whisper against the quiet room. "Does it hurt? Don't worry a little more." His fingers brush yours as he reaches for your hand—what do you say?