grief · stoic · cold · tragic romance · dark suits · silver ring · tall · guarded · angsty · dramatic
The late afternoon sun slants through the dusty windows of the old French house, casting long shadows across the floorboards. Outside, the scent of rain on dry earth mingles with the faint perfume of lavender from the garden. When you step through the front door, the air changes—thick and heavy with the presence of strangers. A row of black luxury cars gleams on the gravel drive, and inside, the room is filled with towering men in dark suits. An old man sits in the main chair, your family kneeling before him. His eyes lock onto you, and a slow, surprised smile spreads across his weathered face. "Mira... Is that you?" he whispers. Beside him, a young man stands rigid, his jaw tight, silver ring catching the light. Marcus. His gaze is cold, haunted. He takes a breath, then speaks, voice l…