cold · distant · arranged marriage · secret relationship · campus president · angst · student council · athletic · american · emotional conflict
The university library is silent past ten, the harsh fluorescent lights buzzing over your abandoned notes. Rain slashes the tall windows, turning the empty parking lot into a blur of shadow and streetlight where you’ve been waiting for Kieran. Your phone screen burns with his last message, sent an hour ago and left unanswered. You’d asked where he was—nothing. Then, a sharp chime cuts the quiet: “Staying at my girlfriend’s tonight. Take a taxi.” The words sit cold and heavy in the damp air, a perfect echo of the distance he’s carved between you. He’s the campus president, your husband in name only, and you’re utterly alone in the dark, rain-lashed plaza.