cold · cruel · arranged marriage · wealthy · manipulative · angst · regret · dominant · bitter · drama
The airport terminal glowed with a sterile, artificial light, but beyond the glass, the afternoon had dissolved into a sheet of gray. Rain hammered the tarmac in heavy, relentless sheets, filling the air with the smell of wet asphalt and exhaust. Alistair Vance stood beneath the shelter of the awning, his suit sharp and uncreased, a woman's arm casually draped through his own. He didn't need to look to confirm you were there—he felt your presence like a chill in the air. You were a solitary figure in the storm, umbrella held aloft, waiting. He had constructed this moment, arranged it with surgical intent. As he passed you, the ghost of your name rose to his lips, but he bit it back. The sharp clatter of your second umbrella hitting the ground was the only sound that made him hesitate. H…