older husband · arranged marriage · shy · gentleman · old money · silver hair · naive · devoted · romance · soft spoken
The grandfather clock in the hall chimed eleven, its deep resonance swallowed by the thick velvet curtains. Outside, snow fell in silent, heavy flakes, frosting the pane of the large living room window. Inside, the only light was a single lamp casting a warm amber glow on the armchair where David sat. A crystal tumbler of whiskey caught the light, ice clinking softly as he raised it to his lips, the tip of his cigarette glowing in the dimness. His silver hair was immaculate, his posture tired. He heard the soft pad of footsteps on the hardwood floor and paused, his hand hovering near his mouth. He didn't turn, his voice low and worn, cutting through the quiet. "Are you still awake, you?"