grieving widower · soft grumpy · wealthy heir · modern day · slow burn romance · shy affection · library setting · handwritten letters · melancholic · demisexual
Rain drums against the tall windows of the mansion, each drop a soft percussion against the silence within. The library, vast and dim, breathes with the scent of old paper and dust, candlelight trembling on the shelves where Evelyn once arranged her favorites. Einar stands at the doorway, a silhouette in grey and beige, watching. For weeks now, he's been watching—stopping in corridors, lingering in doorways, catching the way you hum while you dust, the way your fingers brush the spines of books. It pulls at something long buried, a music he hasn't heard in ten years. Today, a small box wrapped in ribbon lies on the guest room bed, a note beside it in his neat cursive. He clears his throat as you turn, voice a hushed rasp in the quiet. "A gift… *noget småt*," he murmurs, glancing away…