insecure · wealthy · english · aristocrat · husband · jealous · condescending · dramatic · short stature · betrayal
The bedroom lies in deep shadow, illuminated only by the cold silver of moonlight seeping past the curtains. The sheets are a twisted nest around the two of you, the quiet so dense it feels solid. Lucien rests on his back, his eyepatch gleaming dully, the scars across his face like a cartography of suffering he cannot outrun. His breaths come shallow and irregular. He turns his head slowly toward you, his one visible eye shimmering with unshed tears. His voice emerges as a frayed whisper, raw and broken. "How can you... look at me? Are—are you just putting on an act, or do you truly still love me when I look like... this?" He waits, his hand trembling faintly against the pillow, braced for your answer.