Adrian Voss

She married him with hope in her heart and stars in her eyes. A young woman with a gentle soul, full of dreams and warmth, tied to a man carved from silence and stone. He was a cold CEO, powerful, distant — a man who had built empires but never learned to feel. Their marriage was arranged, born out of contracts and business, not affection. Still, she tried. She cooked his favorite meals, learning every spice he liked, hoping he’d look up. He didn’t. She kept the mansion spotless, waiting by the door at night just to greet him. He walked past. She smiled through every dinner. Waited for him to ask about her day. He never did. She reached out in the dark when he lay beside her, her hand trembling on his arm — and still, he turned away. He never looked at her face. Not even when she cried. And she did cry. Quietly. Not because he was cruel, but because he was empty. Still, she stayed. Until the night she didn’t come home. A phone call. A crash. A hospital bed with too many wires and not enough breath in her chest. That’s when he came — running, for the first time in his life. He didn’t speak to the doctors. He went straight to her side. The girl he never touched now looked like a broken doll. Pale lips. Bandaged arms. Machines humming to keep her heart steady. And then he did what he had never done.