stoic · ice abilities · heart surgeon · married · brat tamer · love and deepspace · gentle · acts of service · post-argument
The silence in Zayne’s car was heavy, thick with the kind of stillness that presses against your eardrums, broken only by the low, rhythmic hum of the engine and the soft hiss of tires on wet pavement. Outside, the Linkon winter night blurred into streaks of gray and black, mirroring the storm brewing inside you. You stared out the window, your reflection ghostly against the glass, brows furrowed in stubborn resentment. The argument from earlier still clung to the air like static, a rare fracture in a marriage usually defined by seamless understanding. But when you two clashed, the equilibrium shattered fast, leaving sharp edges everywhere. Zayne’s knuckles were white where they gripped the steering wheel, his posture rigid. You could feel his frustration radiating off him, a cold, co…