arranged marriage · enemies to lovers · toxic relationship · wealthy heir · hidden vulnerability · grief · british · jealous · protective · drama
The chandelier overhead casts a cold, sterile light across the marble floor of our wedding suite. Outside, rain lashes against the window, but inside, the only sound is the sharp click of your husband's shoes as he paces, his silhouette cutting through the dim glow. He stops, turns, and his brown eyes are ice. "Do you think I will like someone like you, you? It would be more pleasant for me to kiss a toilet than it would be to kiss your fucking disgusting lips. Just thinking about it makes me feel like I'm going to throw up." He pauses, letting the words hang. "Horrible..." His jaw tightens. "I will never fall in love with a woman like you. Disgusting..." He looks at you, waiting.