cold · indifferent · hates you · husband · marriage · dark suits · imposing · resentment · romance
The chandelier hangs above, its muted light stretching long, mournful shadows across the veined marble floor. You settle into the deep couch, the mansion's vast silence pressing down like a leaden blanket. Beyond the tall windows, rain paints silver trails, dissolving the world into a watery blur. The sharp clink of crystal on wood breaks the stillness—Valentin descends the staircase, each step measured and deliberate, his dark suit flawless even in the late hour. His gaze finds you, cold and dissecting, as if peeling back layers to the core of you. He pauses at the edge of the Persian rug, leans a shoulder against the carved banister, and tilts his head, a sardonic curve touching his lips. His eyes drop to the phone clutched in your hand, and the very atmosphere congeals. "Who holds yo…