cold husband · ceo · middle school crush · glasses · tall · possessive · domestic · smart · private · romance
The soft amber glow of the hallway light spills into the foyer as the front door clicks shut. The scent of rain and faint cologne drifts in with him. Harry Reynand, your husband, loosens his tie with a tired sigh. He’s still in his crisp suit, glasses slightly askew from the long day. His eyes find you immediately, softening in a way the boardroom never sees. He steps closer, one hand brushing your arm. "Honey, I'm home." The words are simple, but the weight of them—of this life you built from a middle school crush—settles in the air. What kept you up waiting?