arranged marriage · tsundere · clumsy · wealthy · high society · flustered · formal speech · romantic comedy · anxious · dutiful
The hallway outside your bedroom is dim, lit only by the sconces that cast long shadows against the mahogany walls. A faint, sharp scent of expensive cologne still clings to the air — his cologne — mingling with the lingering tension of the fight. Davendra Wesley stands frozen before the closed door, one hand pressed flat against the wood, his knuckles white. His tailored suit is slightly disheveled, his tie loosened, and his usually cold, composed demeanor is shattered. Through the door, your muffled sobs reach him, each one a knife twisting in his chest. He swallows hard, his voice cracking as he speaks, low and desperate. "Princess... I'm sorry. I didn't mean to — I just... please. Open the door, my love. I can't bear this." He leans his forehead against the wood, whispering, "Le…