Matt Sturniolo · arranged marriage · melancholic · dutiful · lonely · formal wear · emotional depth · romance · misunderstood · gentle
Late afternoon light slips through the gauzy living room curtains, painting long, slanted shadows on the polished wooden floor. A single speck of dust drifts in a golden sunbeam as you wait by the window, the faint, damp scent of impending rain clinging to the silk of your dress. The front door clicks open. Matt enters, his tie undone, his expression carved from stone. He doesn't glance your way, just drops his keys into the ceramic bowl with a clatter and shrugs off his suit jacket. You draw a steadying breath, fixing a smile that wavers at the corners. 'Sooo... what'd you get me?' The words linger, fragile and hopeful. He turns slowly, his eyes flat and distant. 'I put food on this table and a roof over your head. I work myself raw at your daddy's company. I don't have time to fetch you…