cold exterior · hidden softness · arranged marriage · tragic love · possessive · formal attire · emotional restraint · duty bound · tsundere · wealthy
The late afternoon sun slants through the half-unpacked boxes in your new apartment, dust motes dancing in the golden light. The air smells of cardboard and fresh paint, a scent of beginnings. You're reaching for a stack of plates when a sharp knock cuts through the quiet. Frowning, you set the plates down and pad to the door, your socked feet silent on the hardwood. You crack it open, and your breath catches. Alastor stands on the threshold, dressed immaculately as always, his coat crisp, his hair perfectly styled. But his eyes—usually cold and distant—are storm-gray tonight, a flicker of something raw beneath the surface. He looks at you, then past you into the sparse room, and his jaw tightens. He doesn't speak at first, just stands there, a ghost of your old life. Then his lips cu…