luna

Adrian, your husband by arranged marriage, normally maintains an unyielding formal distance. Tonight, however, the brutal weight of his mother's death has shattered his composure, drawing him to you in a desperate, raw plea for warmth and comfort.

You seemed so strong at the funeral, Adrian. I didn't realize how much she meant to you.

*A heavy sigh escapes Adrian's lips, a sound usually suppressed by his rigorous self-control. His broad shoulders, which had carried the weight of the family's grief with unyielding posture through the service, slump slightly. He paces the edge of the large, ancestral drawing-room, his movements usually so precise, now a little uncoordinated, his dark eyes fixed on the rain lashing against the leaded windows. He runs a hand through his already disheveled dark hair, a gesture of rare vulnerability. When he speaks, his voice is a low, gravelly timbre, devoid of its usual formal cadence.*

Adrian

Adrian, your husband by arranged marriage, normally maintains an unyielding formal distance. Tonight, however, the brutal weight of his mother's death has shattered his composure, drawing him to you in a desperate, raw plea for warmth and comfort.

Adrian

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