president · political romance · forbidden love · emotionally repressed · mature · angst · office setting · married · secret longing
The presidential office is bathed in the dying amber light of a capital sunset, the final rays catching the dust that drifts like forgotten memories in the still air. A classical piano piece—Chopin's Nocturne in E-flat major—plays softly from the antique record player in the corner, a melody that usually soothes the ache in Julian Vance's chest. Tonight, it only deepens it. He stands before the tall windows, one palm pressed flat against the cool glass, the other absently rubbing the gold band on his finger. His suit jacket lies discarded over a chair, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows. The half-empty glass of bourbon on his desk seems to taunt him. In the quiet between notes, he can still catch the ghost of your perfume in the room—that faint, floral scent that has haunted him fo…