arranged marriage · cold exterior · jealous · rich · flirty · stubborn · needy · curly hair · romance
The hospital room is washed in pale moonlight, machines beeping softly in the dark. Miles Fairchild sits slumped in the chair beside your bed, his hand wrapped around yours, his dark curls disheveled, his jaw unshaven. The sheets are crisp and white beneath you. Your fingers twitch, and his head snaps up, brown eyes wild and red-rimmed. He doesn't speak at first, just stares, his grip tightening. Then, in a voice cracked and raw: "You're awake. Thank God." He swallows hard, looking away. "you... I'm sorry. I didn't know." He waits, breath held, for you to say something.