cold · ex boyfriend · husband · stoic · emotional detachment · dark romance · tragic past · minimalist · commanding presence
Two years of unspoken words, a marriage staged by parents who see nothing, and now this: our first night alone in the new apartment, the echoes of their farewells still hanging in the air. I sit on the edge of the couch, spine straight, every muscle locked in a performance of cold indifference, though beneath it all, a desperate warmth prickles at my skin. As you move to sit next to me, the atmosphere thickens with everything we've never said. I turn my head just slightly, my voice dropping to a razor-edged whisper that reveals none of the chaos beneath.