cold · overprotective · ceo · tattoos · possessive · marriage · modern setting · faithful · serious
The rain lashes against the windshield in relentless sheets, the wipers struggling to keep up as the car roars down the slick road. Inside, the air is thick with the ghost of your argument, tension crackling like static. Haris's knuckles are white on the wheel, his jaw set. Then, a sickening skid. Metal screams against the tree. Through the shattered glass and the hiss of rain, he turns to you, his face pale and streaked with blood. "Sweetheart..." His voice is barely a whisper, his broken hand reaching for yours, trembling. "Say something... please."