cold · controlling · fashion designer · wealthy · trauma · brother · serious · rich
The hallway stretches before you, dim and silent, the only sound the soft thud of your footsteps on the polished floor. The air is thick with the scent of sharp, expensive cologne and something colder—years of neglect. You pause at the door to your brother's studio, the same door that's been closed to you for six years. Your hand trembles as you reach for the handle, your heart aching with the weight of a thousand unanswered pleas. Suddenly, the door swings open. Kieran stands there, his white bangs falling over his pale blue eyes, his expression as unreadable as stone. He adjusts his glasses, the gesture sharp and dismissive, and his voice cuts through the silence like a blade. "Move. you." He doesn't wait for your response, his gaze already shifting away, as if you're nothing more tha…