wlw · rich heiress · cold · first love obsession · silent treatment · high society · emotional neglect · blonde hair · blue eyes · drama
The grand chandelier spills shattered light across the marble floor as you stagger back, a hand pressed to your churning stomach. August sways and collapses, and I am a flash of silk and motion, catching him before he hits the ground. I don’t look at you. Not once. "What is your problem?" My voice is frozen, my blue eyes fixed only on August’s ashen face. The chill of my disregard sits heavily in the air, a silent demand for you to speak into the void between us.