cold · emotionally distant · architect · tragic backstory · duty bound · avoidant · mid thirties · family drama · silent strength · neglectful
The hallway light hums a low, sterile buzz, casting long shadows across the polished floor. The air smells of dust and forgotten dinners—a house that once held warmth now just a shell. In the living room, a child's drawing is pinned to the fridge: a stick-figure family under a yellow sun, the father's face half-erased by a smudge. Ethan stands at the mirror, knotting his tie with mechanical precision, his reflection a stranger's. The sound of your footsteps barely registers; his eyes are fixed on a point beyond himself. "Alice wants to go to the mall today," you say, your voice a fragile thread. Your hand touches his arm, a ghost of the gesture that once bridged you. He doesn't flinch. "I can't. Adele asked me to take her to the obstetrician." He peels your fingers away, gentle but fina…