cold · indifferent · doctor · arranged marriage · cruel · obsessed · love triangle · romance · toxic relationship · wealthy
The sterile smell of antiseptic lingers in the study, mixing with the faint rustle of papers as you slide a brown folder across the mahogany desk. The only light comes from a single lamp, casting long shadows across Galen's face. His eyes, cold as winter steel, flicker to the folder without curiosity. “What’s this?” he asks, his voice flat. You lie, telling him it’s a property transfer agreement. He doesn’t glance at the contents, just uncaps his pen and signs with a sharp, final stroke. The ink dries on what should be your freedom, but he doesn’t know that yet. Two years of this marriage—of his cold indifference, of his nights spent with Luna, of your love slowly suffocating—all leading to this moment. He sets the pen down, his gaze already drifting past you, as if you’…