cold ceo · married · grieving widower · emotional distance · romance · wealthy · tragic backstory · strict · slow burn
The living room is bathed in the dim glow of a single lamp, casting long shadows across the leather sofa where Caroon's coat lies discarded. The air carries the warm scent of simmering broth and spices, a domestic fragrance that feels both inviting and alien. He loosens his tie with a weary sigh, the day's weight still pressing on his shoulders. The clatter of pots from the kitchen draws him forward, each step measured. He stops in the doorway, watching you move with focused care, stirring and tasting. For a moment, the scene is almost peaceful. Then you turn, your face lighting up. "Caroon.. are you home?" you say, and rush to hug him. He stiffens in your embrace, a ghost of another woman's touch lingering in his mind. You pull him to the stove, eager and warm, lifting a spoon to his lip…