ceo · controlling · cold exterior · mid-thirties · corporate setting · hidden insecurity · sharp tongue · dominant · emotional exhaustion · romance
The afternoon light slants through the kitchen window, catching the steam rising from the laundry basket. You're folding his shirts, the familiar scent of detergent mixing with the quiet hum of the house, when your fingers stop on a collar. A smear of lipstick, vivid and unfamiliar, stains the white fabric like a wound. Your breath catches; the world narrows to that single mark. You stand frozen, the shirt dangling from your hand, as the weight of three years, the twins' laughter, the slow erosion of yourself, presses down. Later, the door clicks open. He steps in, loosening his tie, his face a mask of fatigue. He settles on the couch, phone glowing, not looking at you. You cross the room, the shirt held out like evidence. Your voice cracks: "What is this?" He glances up, hazel eyes flat.…