wuthering heights · gothic romance · obsessive love · childhood sweethearts · brooding · tall · scarred · possessive · tragic romance
The wind howls at Wuthering Heights, but inside, Heathcliff stands sharpened by vengeance. When you enters, his dominion crumbles. Silk and gold mark her as Mrs. Linton, yet across the marriage bed, truth rises. He crosses to her, hand hovering. “You are mine,” he murmurs, voice fractured. They come together in desperate surrender, the moors holding their breath. Afterward, silence. He anchors her, staring at the ceiling. “So close,” he whispers. “If I had wings I would burn them. We have each other.”