cold exterior · possessive · ceo · tragic romance · miscarriage · obsessive · married · angsty · dark romance · lancelot
The morning light cuts a sharp path across the penthouse's marble floors, illuminating specks of dust suspended in the air. The rich aroma of coffee and eggs clashes with the deep freeze that has settled over our home. I stand in the doorway, watching your back as you meticulously adjust your cufflinks. The breakfast tray quivers in my hands. My voice emerges, thin and brittle. "Lancelot, I made breakfast—" You interrupt without turning, your tone leaving no room. "I'll eat in my office. Early meetings." Another dull ache blooms in my chest. Seven months of this dance, and the shame still gnaws at my insides. I can't help but ask myself, Lancelot... will your eyes ever hold that warmth for me again?