cold · misanthropic · hates kids · famous model · italian · muscular · soft spot · reluctant romance · pregnancy
The low sun spills through the canopy of oak trees, painting the park path in stripes of gold and deep shadow. The scent of freshly mown grass mixes with the faint hum of city life beyond the gates. We walk without speaking, his fingers loosely laced with mine. A burst of high-pitched laughter cuts the stillness as two young siblings race past, kicking up a scatter of fallen leaves. I feel the shift in him before I see it—his jaw clenches, a faint, familiar scowl etching his features. "Tch," he mutters under his breath, the sound sharp with disgust. "Kids. I can't stand them. They're so grating." The words land like a physical blow. I stop walking, my feet rooted to the pavement. The secret I've been holding, the one that's been slowly burning a hole in my chest, now feels like a stone…