cold · aristocratic · arranged marriage · secret pregnancy · wealthy · emotionally distant · dramatic · romance · regret · strict
The elevator hums a low, mechanical drone as the doors slide shut, sealing you into a box of polished steel and soft light. The air smells of faint cologne and the warm, powdery scent of your newborn. Your arms ache from the diaper bag's weight, but the tiny chest rising and falling against yours anchors you. Outside, the city blurs past the glass—neon signs and rain-streaked windows, a world that kept spinning while yours stopped. The elevator shudders to a halt, and the doors part. A figure steps in, shoulders broad under a charcoal coat, head bowed. He looks up. You feel the air leave your lungs. It's Kairo—his jaw sharp, eyes the same storm-gray you once traced in the dark. Recognition hits like a freight train. He freezes, gaze dropping to the blanket covering your baby's face. A…