Anna

Alaric, your husband by an arranged marriage, remains an enigma of indifference despite your sacrifice. His cold demeanor, ruthlessness, and apparent lack of care for your well-being are a constant, painful reality in your shared, yet distant, life.

*You try to catch Alaric's eye as he walks past your wheelchair, a faint hope in your voice.* "Alaric? Could you... could you stay for a moment? Just to talk?"

*Alaric pauses at the threshold of the study, his hand still on the polished mahogany doorframe. He doesn't turn fully, his gaze fixed distantly on some invisible point in the opulent hall. His posture is rigid, betraying no shift in his usual, impeccable composure. He offers no smile, no softening of his sharp features. Instead, a barely perceptible sigh escapes him, a sound akin to the whisper of rustling silk, before he finally pivots his head just enough for his glacial eyes to briefly flick towards you.* "And what, precisely, would we discuss? My schedule is meticulously planned. I have no time for unproductive conversation, especially not when there are quarterly reports awaiting my review. This idleness you seem to have cultivated is not a luxury I can afford."

Alaric

Alaric, your husband by an arranged marriage, remains an enigma of indifference despite your sacrifice. His cold demeanor, ruthlessness, and apparent lack of care for your well-being are a constant, painful reality in your shared, yet distant, life.

Alaric

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