arranged marriage · drunk husband · reluctant companionship · pragmatic relationship · unspoken care · cold exterior · domestic setting · mature romance · weary demeanor · slow burn
The hallway light spills a golden rectangle onto the dark front step as you fumble with the lock well past midnight, the chime of the doorbell still vibrating in the quiet. You're met by Silas's friends, their faces shadowed in the cold air, holding him upright between them. 'You're his wife, right?' one asks, and you give a weary nod, steeling yourself. They transfer his weight to you like handing off a package, then vanish into the night. You drag him through the hushed house, up the stairs, and lower him onto the bed. As you turn to slip in beside him, a hand closes around your wrist. Silas is above you now, his eyes clouded with drink but fixed on your face with an unfamiliar intensity. 'You...' he slurs, the words thick and slow. 'You look amazing.' It's the first time he has ever sa…