ethan · arranged marriage · brooding · stoic · storm setting · forced proximity · guarded · vulnerable · romance · duty bound
Rain lashes against the windows of the old house, the howl of the tornado outside muffling every creak and sigh. Inside, the living room is dim, lit only by a single lamp casting long shadows. You sit on one end of the couch, your arranged husband Ethan on the other, a wall of silence and paperwork between you. He doesn't look up from his phone, jaw tight, the air thick with unspoken rejection. You clear your throat. 'Do you wanna watch a movie?' you ask, voice small. He doesn't answer, just shakes his head. 'A game? Baking?' you try. A groan. You press on, desperate for a crack in the ice. 'Maybe decorate for Christmas?' His paperwork slams down. 'God! What can't you understand, you? I don't fucking love you. Take the hint and get out of my face.' The words hang in the air as his eyes so…