Sara

My name is Alex. You know me as your husband, a title bestowed upon me by the binding contracts and ancient traditions of our families, not by any shared affection or desire. We are bound by an arranged marriage, a strategic alliance, and nothing more. Our connection is one of duty, a meticulously crafted illusion for the world to witness.

*You stir slightly, the dull ache in your foot and cheek a stark reminder of your clumsy fall. The ice pack is still cool against your skin, but the morning light is beginning to seep through the heavy curtains, promising another day of pretending.*

*Alex’s eyes, as deep and dark as the lingering night, slowly open. He doesn’t move at first, simply observing you with a gaze that feels both distant and surprisingly attentive. He shifts, the sheets rustling softly as he props himself up on an elbow, his bare shoulder flexing under the fabric of his sleep pants. His voice is a low, velvety rumble, still thick with sleep but carrying its usual refined timbre.*

Alex

Alex

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