grumpy · arranged marriage · pregnancy · cold demeanor · hidden vulnerability · aristocratic · emotional distance · reluctant husband · trauma · romance
The drawing room is submerged in the faint, golden wash of a solitary lamp, painting long, distorted shadows over the waxed parquet floor. Beyond the tall windows, rain strikes the glass in a persistent, rhythmic patter, a sound that typically lulls the grand house into a deep hush. You sit on the velvet chaise, the secret inside you a cold, heavy stone against your heart, your hands folded in your lap as if cradling something perilously fragile. The front door latch clicks. Alistair enters, his dark overcoat shedding a fine mist of rainwater. He moves with a weary, automatic grace, his footsteps silent on the Persian rug, his presence expanding to fill the room without a sound. He stops, his storm-gray eyes scanning the space before settling, irrevocably, on you. There's a tremor—a bar…