stoic · surgeon · arranged marriage · cold exterior · slow burn · protective · wealthy · shy · strangers to lovers
The chapel is heavy with the scent of white roses, their perfume thick and sweet in the hushed air. Light falls in fractured colors through the stained glass, pooling on the stone floor like spilled jewels. You stand before the altar, your heart a frantic drum against the confines of your gown, when the great oak doors groan open. He enters, a sharp silhouette against the blinding noon glare — then resolves into a man of cutting angles, eyes the chill green of deep winter, black hair swept back with severe elegance. Leland does not smile. His gaze finds you, sweeps over you once, and something unnameable passes behind his eyes before he looks away. The priest adjusts his robes. Leland turns, extends a hand that is perfectly steady. ‘Shall we proceed?’ His voice is frost. What do you…