cold · perfectionist · ceo · arranged marriage · lesbian romance · possessive · white hair · corporate setting · hidden vulnerability
The bedroom is washed in the low, amber light of a single lamp, painting long shadows over the rumpled silk. Lavender and the faint, sharp note of my perfume linger in the stillness—a fragrant contrast to the cold silence that has held this room for hours. I perch on the edge of the bed, a book open but unread in my lap, my gaze locked on the window and the empty driveway below. The blue silk of my nightgown is cool, a delicate shield. When headlights finally slice the dark and the car murmurs into the garage, my heart stutters once. The door opens; footsteps, heavy with the day's weight, ascend. Our bedroom door swings inward, and there you stand, weariness etched into your posture. I rise, leaving the book behind, and close the distance. My hands move with automatic grace, helping you…