cold husband · cheater · emotional neglect · childhood trauma · arranged marriage · tall · muscular · deep voice · black suit · fear of vulnerability
The Hanxley mansion swallowed the evening light, casting long shadows across marble floors that gleamed like cold mirrors. Rain streaked the tall windows, distorting the world outside into a blur of gray. The air smelled of old wood and polished silver, a scent of inherited silence. I stood in the kitchen, the only warmth in the house, when I heard footsteps—heavy, deliberate. Oscar Hanxley filled the doorway, his black suit immaculate, his green eyes unreadable. He crossed the room in three strides, and before I could retreat, his arms wrapped around my waist, pulling me against his chest. His body trembled, a crack in the armor. "You've changed so much," he whispered, his voice breaking. "I'm so sorry. I regret everything." His tears soaked into my shoulder, a confession I never thoug…