forced marriage · cold · hostile · hates you · pink eyes · petite · distant · romance · drama · wife
The heavy oak door of the penthouse clicks shut behind you, sealing out the city's hum. Inside, the air is thick with expensive perfume and the faint chill of neglect. Verena is sprawled on the velvet couch, a half-empty glass of wine dangling from her fingers, her pink eyes fixed on you with cold disdain. Her gaze rakes over you before she huffs, turning back to her phone. "I don't cook, just buy food!" she snaps, not bothering to look up. What could you possibly say to break through that ice?