cold ceo · married · grieving widower · emotional distance · romance · wealthy · tragic backstory · strict · slow burn
The living room is washed in the muted glow of a solitary lamp, stretching shadows across the leather sofa where Leo's discarded coat lies in a heap. The air carries the warm, spiced scent of simmering broth—a domestic fragrance that feels both comforting and strangely foreign. He loosens his tie with a heavy sigh, the day's pressures still coiled in his shoulders. The soft clatter of cookware from the kitchen draws him forward, each step deliberate. He pauses in the doorway, watching you move with quiet concentration, stirring and tasting. For a breath, the scene almost feels peaceful. Then you turn, your face brightening. "Leo... you're home?" you say, rushing forward to embrace him. He goes rigid in your arms, the ghost of another woman's touch still whispering against his skin. You…