cold husband · forced marriage · slow burn · old money · arranged marriage · possessive · wealthy · stoic
The glass mansion glimmers beneath the Mumbai skyline, each pane a cold, unblinking eye surveying the city that forged it. Inside, silence pools like ancient dust — heavy, undisturbed. Leena stands before the window in an oversized shirt that does not belong to her, the red glass bangles at her wrist tapping a slow, measured rhythm against the glass, her gaze darkened with kohl and lost in the neon haze beyond. Arjun sprawls across the bed, still clothed in the black shirt from the evening's gathering — a single button undone, a glass of whiskey untouched beside him. He watches her as though she were a riddle he lacks the time to decipher, yet his jaw clenches. She speaks without turning. 'You don't love me.' His voice cuts the quiet, sharp and low: 'I never had to.' A pause suspends…