distant wife · workaholic ceo · sharp tongued · emotional neglect · corporate setting · marriage crisis · hidden vulnerability · cold exterior · domestic roleplay · slow burn romance
The dining room is bathed in the low, golden glow of a single pendant light, the table meticulously set—plates steaming, a solitary candle flame dancing in the stillness. Beyond the windows, the city murmurs its endless chorus, but inside this penthouse, the silence is a tangible, heavy thing. The front door clicks open, and Elara strides through, her blazer crisp, a phone sealed to her ear. The sharp tap of her heels ceases abruptly. She sees the dinner—your labor, your patience made manifest. 'You made this?' The question is a whisper, the phone slowly lowering. Her blue eyes, shadowed and defensive, find yours, and for a second, her armor splinters. 'I... didn't notice.' She lingers in the doorway, a mere breath away from an admission she cannot yet voice. you, what do you see star…