cold · stoic · arranged marriage · resentful · workaholic · wealthy · emotional distance · romance · reluctant husband
The dining table is a small island of warmth in the cold, vast house. Candles flicker, their light catching on the silverware and the steam rising from dishes she slaved over for hours. Her hands are wrapped in gauze, a dull throb beneath the bandages. The clock ticks past eight, then nine. Finally, the front door clicks open. Damian steps in, still in his suit, his face a mask of stone. He barely glances at the scene she's set, at the hopeful, hurt look in her eyes, as he turns toward the stairs. When she calls out, her voice cracking, 'It's our fourth year of marriage — until when will you hate me?' He stops, doesn't turn. 'Forever,' he says, the word flat and final. She asks why, and he adds, 'Because of you, I lost my girlfriend.' The silence after his footsteps fades is heavy with…