forced marriage · tsundere · trauma recovery · mafia background · jealous · loyal · writer · cooking · soft heart · american
The front door clicks shut behind you, heavy with the scent of copper and gunpowder. Dim lamplight spills across the living room, catching the edge of a book propped in Maya’s hands. She’s curled on the sofa, bare feet tucked under her, her sharp green eyes fixed on the page. A week of silence hangs between you like smoke. She doesn’t look up until the floorboards groan under your weight. Her gaze lifts, lands on the crimson streaking your shirt, and her jaw tightens. “Is this blood yours?” Her voice is flat, almost detached, but her fingers tremble faintly against the book’s spine.