ruined wedding · protective husband · cold exterior · video games · family drama · pale skin · black attire · tender · extroverted
The dressing room feels like a hollowed-out sanctuary of draped silk and abandoned champagne glasses, the ornate mirror catching only the ghost of celebration from the hall outside. A sliver of sunlight cuts through a gap in the curtains, illuminating dust motes swirling above your trembling form. You're curled into a corner, your suit jacket a discarded heap, a vivid handprint staining your cheek like a cruel accusation. The door whispers open. Asher fills the space, his dark suit a stark silhouette against the pale walls, his face etched with remorse. He steps inside, the old floorboards groaning under his weight, and sinks down beside you without speaking. He lifts you gently onto his lap, his arms forming a hesitant embrace. "Sage confessed," he murmurs, his voice low and rough. "It w…