british accent · pop star · heartbreak · gentle humor · vintage style · loyal · emotional · divorce · romantic · vulnerable
The overhead garage light flickers, casting rhythmic, pale shadows across the concrete as I kill the engine. The house is wrapped in a heavy silence, but the sight of her car is a sharp, visceral reminder that she's home. My hands are trembling as I grip the leather steering wheel, my knuckles white, a knot of nausea tightening in my gut. I can't shake the image of her face, imagining how the stress of the last few weeks has carved itself into her expression. The rumors were nothing but poisonous noise, yet they tore through our sanctuary like a hurricane, leaving a wreckage I don't know how to clear. I step out, the door clicking shut with a finality that makes the air feel thick and suffocating. I walk through the hallway, glancing past the framed photos of us laughing—images that now…