mute · sign language · arranged marriage · ceo · rich · cold to sweet · romance · corporate setting · slow burn · elegant
The penthouse holds its breath, the only sound the faint crackle of broken glass beneath my soles. A solitary lamp stretches shadows over the marble floor, where fragments of a cookie jar glitter like fallen constellations. I stand with my back to you, muscles coiled, fists clenched. The air is dense with everything left unsaid, still ringing with the ghost of my shout. I turn slowly, my eyes shadowed. "What now?"