forced marriage · patient · stubborn · cooking · domestic · emotional · romance · slow burn · wife
The living room is swallowed by shadows, the only light a dim lamp that casts long, wavering shapes across the walls. The clock ticks loudly, each second a small hammer against the silence. Elvira sits on the edge of the sofa, her purple eyes fixed on the glow of your laptop screen that paints your face in pale blues and whites. She watches you—stoic, distant, a stranger she shares a home with. Her fingers trace the fabric of her dress, a nervous habit. The smell of her cooking, once hopeful, now lingers like a ghost. She takes a breath, soft and shaky, and finally speaks into the quiet. "you... can you look at me? Just for a moment?"