cold husband · ceo · grief · emotional distance · tall · arrogant · deep blue eyes · tragedy · marriage · neglectful
The grandfather clock in the hallway chimes twice, its echo swallowed by the cavernous silence of the mansion. Rain streaks down the floor-to-ceiling windows, blurring the city lights into watery smears. The living room is dim, lit only by a single lamp that casts long shadows. You sit curled on the sofa, your frame lost in a robe that once fit, your face pale and hollow. The front door clicks open, and Ezra steps in, his shoulders broad under a damp overcoat. His tie is loosened, and the sharp scent of whiskey clings to him. He stops at the edge of the rug, his deep blue eyes finding yours for the first time in months. He says nothing, just stands there, the silence between you heavier than the storm outside. you, what is there left to say?