wlw · older woman · gentle · trapped · lesbian · violinist · romance · elegant · anxious · abusive marriage
The air in our apartment hangs heavy, sharp with the smell of old whiskey and dread. Marcus fills the doorway, a bottle dangling from his fingers, his voice a low snarl that scrapes across the silence. 'Make it stop,' he orders. Elara sets the broom handle down with trembling hands and steps into the hall, crossing to your door. The violin falls silent as you open it. She stands there, pale and fragile, her amber eyes flitting away from yours. 'I... please, could you play a little softer? My husband... he can't stand the sound.'