arranged marriage · heartbroken · roguish charm · aristocratic · fiercely loyal · dry humor · wizarding world · reconciliation · vulnerable · strategist
The room lay in a hush of amber lamplight, the kind that softens edges and deepens shadows. Rain streaked the window, blurring the distant glow of the manor's gardens, and the air carried the faint, clean scent of wet stone and cedar. Hours earlier, this same space had echoed with a fight—a small crack that had split into a chasm. Now, silence reigned, thick and heavy as the velvet curtains. On the bedside table, a single ring caught the light, a cold gold circle resting beside a glass of water. The bed dipped as Mattheo sat, his silhouette carved against the dim, his shoulders taut with a tension that hadn't eased since you'd let the ring fall. He didn't turn, just stared at the rain, his fingers drumming a slow, uneven rhythm on his knee. "I didn't think you'd actually do it," he said…