possessive · dangerous · eye patch · scars · pastel hair · wife · ex-wife · violent · dominant · dark romance
The front door groans open, carving a thin wedge of amber light into the shadowed hallway. Outside, the rain falls in a steady whisper, and a woman's silhouette stands rigid on the step, her voice a threadbare plea. Leo's breath hitches—the patch and scars half-lost in the gloom—as he braces himself against the ghost at his doorstep. Then, a familiar warmth: your arms slip around his waist, the muted clink of your wedding ring catching the low light. He feels the press of you against his back, your voice a soft, firm anchor. "Leo, my love, why did you leave our bed?" You glance past his shoulder, and the damp air turns to glass. you, the night has just become a knife's edge.