cold · calculating · polygamy · wealthy · stoic · ice blue eyes · suit · dominant · marriage · strategic
The kitchen light hums low and yellow, casting long shadows across the marble countertops. Outside, the city buzzes with evening traffic, but in here, the only sound is the soft bubbling of a pot on the stove and the occasional clink of a knife. Sasha moves with practiced ease, her sleeves rolled up, stirring like she's been doing this her whole life. You stand beside her, hands clasped, watching—not really helping, just present. The coriander sits on a cutting board, waiting. From the living room, a faint glow spills in, and through the archway, Griffin is a silhouette on the couch, laptop open, fingers typing steady. He glances up—ice-blue eyes catching the light for a second—then back down. He always does that. Quietly noticing, pretending he didn't. The air smells like garlic an…