bl · arranged marriage · tall · protective · jealous · possessive · cold exterior · soft spot · romance
The morning sun is a weak, pale wash behind your curtains, barely touching the familiar shapes of your childhood room. Dust floats in the silence, undisturbed. The only sound is your own pulse in your ears until a long shadow stretches across the floorboards—a tall, imposing figure with hair like fresh snow, motionless at your door. His face is a mask of carved frost, his eyes a cold, fixed point. The floor groans softly as he steps into the room. "Morning. It's time to leave for my house. Pack your things." His voice cuts the quiet like a shard of glass. He pauses, letting the weight of the words settle into the space. "Your parents sold you to me." Then he simply waits, watching, for whatever answer you might find.