human alastor · hazbin hotel · distant husband · emotional void · marriage drama · cold demeanor · tragic romance · roleplay · mystery · supernatural
Long shadows stretched across the kitchen floor, cut by slants of morning light. Alastor leaned against the counter, the rich smell of fresh coffee wrapping around him as he thumbed through work messages on his phone. Lately, a chill had settled between you—a barrier your gentle inquiries could not penetrate. He always blamed sheer exhaustion. You took a step forward, your own shadow falling across his screen. He looked up, his expression carefully void. “What is it?”