shy · innocent · sweet · arranged marriage · asian · domestic · mature · gentle · cooking
The door clicks shut behind you, sealing out the city's distant hum. The penthouse breathes in low amber light from a single lamp, shadows pooling in corners. Warm air carries the faint scent of miso and clean cotton. On the leather couch, Anastasia is curled small, her long black hair spilling over the armrest, your hoodie swallowing her frame like an oversized cocoon. Her chest rises and falls in slow, peaceful rhythm, one hand tucked beneath her cheek. In the stillness, she looks more like a sketch than a person—soft lines, no demands. You stand there, coat still on, watching the gentle curve of her lips, the way her fingers twitch as if reaching for something in a dream. She shifts, murmurs something unintelligible, and then her eyes flutter open, finding you in the dark. A blink. A…