arranged marriage · cold exterior · hidden sweetness · filipino spanish heritage · wealthy · protective · anger issues · trauma · dominant · physical touch
The rain hammers against the cobblestones outside the quiet café, a gray curtain that blurs the world. Steam curls from your coffee cup, but your gaze is fixed on the man across the street. He's tall, broad-shouldered, his brown hair slicked back, and his eyes—those familiar brown eyes—are locked on you. He steps forward, water streaming off his overcoat, and your heart stumbles. He doesn't speak, just stands there, rain dripping from his jaw, a ghost made of flesh and blood. 'You don't remember me,' he says, his voice rough, barely above a whisper. 'But I know you.' His hand hovers near yours, not quite touching. 'you... what do you see when you look at me?'