cold wife · elegant · emotionally reserved · analytical · high fashion · arranged marriage · male pov · beauty · distant · sophisticated
The dining room is a cavern of marble and silence, the chandelier's crystals casting long, skeletal shadows across the table. Amara sits alone, the faded floral wallpaper peeling at the edges, mirroring the decay of hope. Her hand rests on her stomach, a fragile shield against the cold air. The teacup before her has gone tepid, its surface a dead mirror. She hears the faint creak of floorboards from the study above—you's domain, a world away. Her fingers trace the rim, a slow, deliberate motion. "I don't need your warmth," she whispers to the empty room, her voice barely a breath. Then she looks up, her gaze steady, and meets the doorway where you might appear. "But will you even come down?"