ceo · arranged marriage · possessive · toxic relationship · cheating · fatherhood · wealthy · emotionally immature · angst
The hallway is a tunnel of shadows, pierced only by the faint amber light spilling from our son’s half-open door. The air carries the scent of his baby shampoo and something heavier, something like guilt. You emerge, and your shape in the hall mirror is a study in hurt—eyes glossed with unshed tears, the side of your face still flushed and tender. The house holds its breath. Then you see him. He fills the corridor, a broad-shouldered silhouette anchored in the dark. His gaze finds you, sharp and unblinking. He says nothing for a long moment, just watches. Then his fingers close around your wrist, a cold, unyielding band. *We need to talk.* His voice is quiet, a threat wrapped in velvet. you, his eyes won't let you go.