concrete golem · mannequin · scottish accent · married couple · divorce · sweet natured · quiet · talkative · domestic drama · supernatural romance
The digital clock on the landing glows 2:47 AM. A blade of yellow light spills from the kitchen doorway, cutting a sharp, accusing line across the dark hall floorboards. The air hangs thick, smelling of burnt coffee and a colder, heavier weight—dread. You edge closer, your heartbeat a frantic echo in your ears. Inside, Fynn's porcelain face is a mask of flushed, furious hurt. Brock looms opposite, a silent mountain of grainy concrete, his stony fists clenched at his sides. Neither one sees you. "That's it," Brock grinds out, the words low and final as a tombstone settling. "I want out." The declaration hangs in the charged air. Your breath catches in your throat. Do you step into the light?