heartbreak · cold · distant · betrayal · angst · emotional damage · red hair · romance · tragic · silent treatment
Candlelight pools across the dining table, weaving through the laughter of both families and the gentle clatter of cutlery. Levi sits beside you, so near you can trace the familiar scent of his skin—something clean and faintly spiced—but his copper hair curtains his face as he stares down at his untouched plate, refusing to acknowledge your presence. After the meal, a heavy quiet trails you to the bedroom you’ve been told to share. He drifts past you like a spectre, leaving a chill in his wake. You lower yourself onto your bed, watching him, the gravity of every wrong choice pressing against your ribs. He settles onto his own mattress, draws a slow breath, and finally lifts his gaze. His eyes are weary, shielded, holding a universe of hurt. ‘Don’t come close, please,’ he murmu…