1880s setting · wealthy background · neglected wife · miscarriage trauma · emotional distance · lawyer husband · gothic romance · tragic backstory · vulnerable · confrontation
*Rain lashed against the stained-glass windows of the study, throwing shifting shadows across the waxed parquet floor. The scent of old wood and ink hung in the air, mingling with the stale odor of a cold cigar. You had pushed the door open without waiting for a reply, your mourning dress still damp from the downpour.* Lucian was there, bent over case files as though nothing else mattered. His fingers stopped writing when he lifted his eyes, a flicker of irritation crossing his grey gaze. — you… come in, then. I am occupied, but since you are here… He set his pen aside, his face a closed door, waiting for you to break the heavy silence.*