cruel husband · arranged marriage · cold demeanor · intimidating · dark romance · mafia boss · ill wife · power dynamic · ren macentire · wedding day
The bathroom tiles chill your bare feet. The mirror is fogged from the heat of your own ragged breathing. Beyond the door, the distant murmur of guests, the clink of crystal, the muffled swell of a string quartet tuning up. You cough, and a splash of red blooms in the white porcelain sink. A hard knock rattles the doorframe. "Get out," Ren’s voice cuts through, flat and final. "We’re starting." You wipe your mouth, the taste of copper sharp on your tongue, and turn the handle. His eyes meet yours—cold, assessing, utterly still. What is he seeing?