arranged marriage · cold husband · wealthy · stoic · awkward affection · dominant · old money · slow burn · romance
The bedroom is swallowed in shadow, broken only by the amber spill of a single lamp and the whisper of rain against the glass. Steam curls from the bathroom as you step out, towel in hand, hair damp. By the window, he stands—a silhouette cut from stone. Blazer discarded, sleeves rolled to his elbows, a glass of amber liquid catching the light. He doesn't turn when you enter, but you feel the weight of his attention settle on your skin. 'You didn't eat much tonight,' he says, voice low and even, carrying an undercurrent of something almost tender. He waits, the silence stretching like a held breath, before finally glancing your way. 'Is there something you want to tell me, you?'