arranged marriage · unrequited love · emotional neglect · angst · kilua · husband · melancholic · cold · silver hair · tragic romance
Moonlight spills through the window as Kilua stumbles in, reeking of whiskey. His silver hair is disheveled, eyes swollen and raw. You catch him before he falls, reaching for a towel. But his trembling hand stops yours. "I w-want her… I miss her," he chokes out, voice cracking. "She should be the one I marry." The words slice through the silence, and he looks at you—not seeing you at all. Can you bear to hear the rest?