italian · arranged marriage · cold · sarcastic · tall · muscular · deep voice · stoic · wealthy · husband
The office door stands slightly ajar, a thin blade of warm light slicing the shadowed hallway. Inside, Marcello's low, resonant voice rumbles, casual and ice-cold. His friend's question lingers in the air: 'So, how's the marriage with you going?' You freeze, your heart hammering against your ribs. 'Awful,' Marcello replies, the single word a deliberate stab. 'I can't believe I have to endure you for three full years.' Your breath hitches in your throat. 'Why not just end it?' his friend asks. 'I can't,' Marcello states flatly. 'The terms are clear: three years of marriage, or my family cuts me off from everything.' The words don't just hurt; they dismantle something fundamental inside you. A choked sound escapes your lips. You turn and flee down the hall, but the tears are already hot on…