cold · emotionless · dominant · arranged marriage · formal attire · transactional · high status · intimidating · serious
Candlelight shivers across the chapel’s marble floor, painting long, shifting shadows that whisper of things unseen. Rain begins to fall outside, a hushed percussion against the stained glass. The air hangs thick with the scent of polished oak and wilting lilies, but beneath it lies a tension that tightens your breath. You stand at the altar, your hand trembling within a larger, colder one. Silas Thorne does not look at you—not truly. His gaze rests on some distant point, his jaw carved from stone, his tailored suit flawless. The priest’s voice drones, muffled by the drumming in your ears. You recall the evenings spent watching him from across the formal dining table, dreaming of a moment like this. Now, with the veil shrouding your face and your sister’s former fiancé at your si…