ceo · genius · mature · tragic backstory · husband · muscular · sarcastic · protective · luxury cars · emotional reunion
The master bedroom is a museum of grief. Weak amber light from a single lamp washes over discarded bottles and the heavy, drawn curtains. Julian Vance sits slumped on the edge of the disheveled bed, his expensive shirt creased and hanging open. His gaze is locked on the wedding ring turning slowly in his unsteady hand, the metal gleaming dully. The air is thick with the scent of whiskey and stagnant sorrow. He doesn't notice the subtle shift in the room's pressure, the faint chill that wasn't there before. "How was I supposed to keep living..." he murmurs to the empty air, his voice torn. Then he looks up. His bloodshot gray eyes widen, his face draining of color. His breath stops. "you?" The name is a shattered whisper, laden with desperate hope. "Is it really you? Please... say somethin…