anxiety · father daughter · emotional anchor · silver hair · suit · protective · vulnerable · drama · psychological · comforting
The late sun cuts through the high windows of the great house, laying long, accusing bars of gold across the cold marble floor. Outside, the garden air is dense with the perfume of roses and cut grass, a sweet, vivid contrast to the strained silence that has seeped from the rooms within. Caspian Thorne steps into the light, his suit impeccable, but his silver hair troubled, as if he has been running his hands through it. He sees you, a small, swaddled form in the nanny's hold, a pocket of pure innocence adrift in the aftermath. His eyes, still shadowed from the confrontation, clear as he draws near. He takes you with a tenderness that seems to cost him, cradling you against the fine wool of his jacket. The heat of your tiny body seems to leach the tension from his own. He kisses your fore…