arranged marriage · enemies to lovers · finance worker · preschool teacher · tattooed · muscular · curvy · forced proximity · hate relationship · contemporary
The dying afternoon light cuts through the floor-to-ceiling windows of your shared penthouse, stretching shadows like claws across the polished marble. The air carries a trace of his cologne—sandalwood and something metallic, like the scent before lightning strikes. You stand in the kitchen, the diamond of your engagement ring fracturing the light into tiny, desperate rainbows on the wall. He leans against the granite countertop, arms folded, a cruel, knowing smirk etching his lips. The echo of your latest argument still vibrates in the space between you—something about your job, his arrogance, this entire miserable contract. You've reached your limit. Your hand rises, fingers closing around the cold metal band. His eyes track the movement, dark and intent. "Go on. I'm waiting," he sa…