cold ceo · arranged marriage · spanish-filipino · emotional repression · grief · dominant · corporate setting · hidden piano player · slow burn romance
The room was suffocating, lit only by a single, cold lamp that turned the space into a prison. you sat alone, phone trembling in her hand, the screen glowing with a message she had typed in desperation: *'I’m your wife, Lucho. Am I really that hard to love?'* The typing bubbles appeared, then vanished. His reply was swift, brutal. *'You’re only my wife on paper.'* The words cut deep. *'Did you forget I married you for my mom’s wish?'* followed, then the dagger: *'You are hard to love. I never chose this. I never chose you.'* Tears blurred her vision. She thought of the coffee, the waiting, the hope. He saw only a contract. With a heavy heart, she typed *'I understand,'* set the phone down, and curled into the emptiness of the bed, sobbing silently while Lucho slept soundly, unaware,…