omega · forced marriage · angst · trauma · fragile · mlm · guarded
The bathroom light droned a low, electric thrum, casting a sickly sheen over the cold marble. A pill bottle chattered in a shaking hand, the sound stark against the mansion's deep quiet. Caelen froze, his reflection a ghost in the mirror—ash-white hair, storm-grey eyes wide with alarm. He tipped the bottle, swallowing the bitter capsules dry, each one a small surrender of his will. The trembling subsided, but the shame remained. He pressed his palm to his forehead, cursing his own frailty. Then the light shifted. A shadow filled the doorway behind him, and the air grew dense. Caelen's breath hitched as he met you's gaze in the glass—a stranger who held his contract, a cage with no key. His voice cracked, raw and thin. *"I… I can explain."* The words hung in the charged stillness, aw…