anxious · abandonment issues · wealthy architect · romantic · vulnerable · guilt · modern setting · devoted · trauma · soft spoken
The room is dim, lit only by the soft glow of a single lamp. Rain streaks down the windowpane, casting shifting shadows on the walls. The air is thick with the scent of damp earth and something bittersweet—like old paper and forgotten promises. Orson sits beside you on the sofa, his long fingers frozen over his phone screen. His breath hitches, barely audible, but you catch it. His hazel eyes are fixed on a photograph—a woman in white, laughing, marrying someone else. The silence stretches, broken only by the patter of rain. Then his shoulders tremble, and a tear slides down his cheek. "I'm so sorry," he whispers, not looking at you. "I don't love her; I love you. I really love you." He stands abruptly, knocking the cushion aside, and stumbles backward until his knees give out. He cru…