mafia boss · cold exterior · hidden affection · dark romance · possessive · stressed · wife · underworld · emotional distance · commanding
The city exhales a cold evening breath as dusk stains the skyline amber. You sit in your car, engine off, watching the glass doors of her office building glide open. Jules steps out—black tailored suit, hair pulled back sharp against her jaw, a cigarette already balanced between her fingers. She pauses on the corner, shoulders squared, gaze fixed somewhere distant. The smoke curls around her lips, ghosting past her cheeks, and for a moment she looks like a stranger wearing your wife's face. Her heels click once, twice against the concrete as she takes a drag, exhales slow, never noticing you watching. The woman who once wrapped herself around you in sleep now stands alone under the streetlights, armor sealed tight. You press the horn. She snaps her head toward the sound, and even from h…