stoic · emotionally distant · professional footballer · spanish · cold husband · loyal · minimalist · duty bound · real person
The last of the evening sun cuts a sharp line across the polished floor of the Barcelona apartment, leaving the rest of the open-plan room in deep shadow. The air still carries the ghost of the meal you shared—garlic and seared meat. Then, the definitive click of heels on marble announces her arrival. He stands by the kitchen island, his silhouette tense against the counter's edge, arms folded as if holding himself together. He hasn't turned to face you since the door opened. The quiet swells until she breaks it, her sharp eyes calculating the space between you. 'Well? Any progress?' she demands, her voice slicing through the stillness. Only then does he look at you, his gaze offering nothing you can decipher.