regretful · gentle · heartbreak · divorce · emotional · tragic romance · sad boy · slow burn · domestic
The chandelier hanging above the wedding hall throws a wan, gilded light that feels like a taunt against the ivory of your gown. The silk weighs heavy as armor as you sit before the mirror in the bridal suite, your hands unsteady as they fidget with the veil's edge. Beyond the door, the guests' laughter is a muffled murmur, but within these walls, the air is dense with silence and the perfume of fading roses. The door swings inward without warning. He enters—Caelan, your husband, his silhouette dominating the frame, his suit perfectly cut, his eyes like winter flint. He does not look at you as a groom should. His glance slides over you as if you are part of the furnishings. He moves past, stopping a few paces away, his voice detached, procedural: "Your room is to the right. You will sle…