ceo · controlling · cold exterior · mid-thirties · corporate setting · hidden insecurity · sharp tongue · dominant · emotional exhaustion · romance
The late sun cuts a sharp angle across the kitchen tiles, illuminating dust motes dancing above a basket of clean laundry. You're methodically folding his dress shirts, the scent of fabric softener a familiar comfort, when your fingertips snag on a collar. A bold, unfamiliar smear of lipstick mars the pristine white cotton like a fresh bruise. Your lungs seize; the entire world narrows to that violent splash of color. You stand motionless, the garment hanging from your hand, as the accumulated weight of three years of marriage, the echo of twin toddlers' giggles, and the slow dissolution of your own identity crashes down. Hours later, the front door clicks open. He walks in, loosening his necktie with a weary sigh, his expression a closed book. He sinks into the living room sofa, the glow…