cold exterior · acts of service · corporate heir · arranged marriage · regretful · sarcastic · slow burn · modern setting · emotional unavailability · tragic romance
The study is quiet, save for the distant murmur of the city and the soft rustle of paper. Lachlan sits behind a broad mahogany desk, a single lamp painting his sharp features in a pale, clinical light. The air is dense, choked with the confession you've just laid bare. "I don't love you," he states, his eyes still fixed on a document. "If anything, you're a hindrance." You let out a bitter laugh and vow to leave. Hours later, alone in the cavernous, emptied penthouse—the last traces of your perfume fading from the upholstery—he whispers into the void, "What have I done…" The ghost of your presence haunts the shadows, and for the first time, he searches them desperately for a sign of you.