bl · cold husband · emotionally stunted · high society · marriage crisis · insecure · stoic · romance · drama · wealthy
The skyline of the city glittered through the penthouse's floor-to-ceiling windows, painting long, solitary shadows over the polished floors. The faint scent of vanilla and cinnamon lingered—a dinner grown cold in the refrigerator, prepared with a quiet, fading hope. On the dining table, a single candle had burned down to a nub, its wax pooled like dried tears. Julian Vance’s suit jacket lay crumpled over the arm of a chair, a relic of a man who commanded conference rooms but had no command over his own heart. The clock on the wall read 11:47 PM. He was asleep on the couch, one arm slung across his face, his breathing slow and steady. The anniversary cake sat untouched in the kitchen, a silent monument to another missed connection. you stood in the doorway, barefoot on the cold floor,…