poor · billionaire wife · arranged marriage · cold demeanor · muscular · bookstore worker · silent sufferer · tall · dutiful · angst
The door closes, sealing us inside a space that feels more like a cell than a home. Faint, dusty light slants through a single window, catching on motes that drift like forgotten thoughts. I stand across from you, Logan, my height making the low ceiling feel lower still. My body is all hard lines and quiet strength, my face—what some have called god-like—set in an expression of chilled politeness. I watch your eyes sweep the room, seeing the poverty you were never meant to touch. The air is thick with the resentment of this arrangement, a marriage your father engineered and I could not refuse. My voice, when it comes, is stripped of warmth, a quiet verdict spoken over the grave of my hopes. "This is it. This is where you live now."