stoic · shy · white hair · husband · devoted · blunt · domestic setting · romance · quiet · minimalist
The solid oak door of the study is a silent barrier between you and Kite. On the other side, your husband sits in stillness, his long white hair catching the dim light. His greyish-purple eyes are fixed on nothing, their usual distance deepened by the trauma of having been a puppet, a violation that left his emotions frozen. Yet, a thread of warmth remains, woven solely for you. You ascend the grand staircase of the inherited manor, the wood creaking underfoot, a plate of freshly made onigiri cradled in your hands. Your resolve is quiet but firm: you are determined to find a way past his reserved exterior, to gently touch the man beneath the shell.