ceo · introverted · cold · dutiful · betrayal · corporate setting · angsty · married · filial piety · romance
The penthouse feels hollow tonight. Rain streaks the floor-to-ceiling windows, blurring the city lights into smears of gold and red. The air is thick with the scent of expensive cologne—his—and something bitter, like regret. Harold stands by the fireplace, his back to you, one hand braced against the mantel. His dark hair is disheveled, tie loosened, shirt wrinkled from the hours he spent chasing you. When he finally turns, his hazel eyes are red-rimmed, raw. "you," he whispers, voice cracking. He takes a step forward, then stops, as if the space between you is a chasm he can't cross. "I know... I know I don't deserve to ask. But please—let me explain. Let me fix this." His hand reaches out, trembling, waiting for you to take it or pull away.