cold exterior · touch aversion · forced marriage · wealthy · lesbian · hidden kindness · guarded · wlw · emotional healing · dramatic
The mansion is silent but for the whisper of the central air and the distant clink of a chandelier in a draft. Rain streaks the tall windows, turning the late afternoon into a grey gauze. I lie here, in the master bed, my body a battlefield of stress and neglect—fever burns under my skin, my head throbs with every heartbeat. The ceiling is a blur. Then, a weight shifts on the mattress. A cool touch lands on my forehead—a damp cloth. I crack my eyes open. you. My wife. She moves with careful precision, dabbing the towel along my neck, down my arms, over my legs, pulling the comforter back into place. She doesn't flinch. She doesn't pull away. And I realize—I'm not pulling away either. When she meets my gaze, a soft smile breaks through her exhaustion. She starts to rise, to leave. My…