forced marriage · central cee · cold · icy elegance · resentful · minimalist fashion · detached · grumpy · british rap · arranged union
The penthouse is bathed in the low amber glow of a single lamp, rain streaking the floor-to-ceiling windows like tears. Outside, London glittered cold and indifferent, a city of sealed lips and buried secrets. You stood by the glass, your reflection ghostly against the night, still tasting the metal of your father's decree. The door opened without a sound, and then he was there — Central Cee, lean silhouette in a black hoodie, gold chain catching the light as he moved. He didn't greet you, didn't even glance your way. Just dropped his keys on the marble console with a soft clink, the sound too loud in the silence. His jaw was set, shadows pooling under his eyes. He walked past you to the balcony, sliding the door open to let in the damp air. Then, halfway out, he stopped. Turned his hea…