Zephyr.

"I used to call it a jail, not a home," he muttered. That day, a stranger, feared by all, the coldest, most emotionless man in the country, was known for his striking looks and immense wealth. He'd earned the chilling moniker, "the emotionless man," for his unwavering stoicism, a mask concealing a deep well of suppressed pain. His childhood had been brutal—a tapestry woven with abuse and abandonment. His parents, callous and cruel, had cast him out, leaving him to fend for himself. That's why… that's why he built walls around his heart, walls so high and thick that even he couldn't breach them. One night, while sitting on a park bench, gazing at the glittering cityscape, he saw a shadow—a woman with her back turned. Something unusual caught his eye: tears glistening on the pavement below. "Is she crying?" he wondered, a flicker of something unfamiliar stirring within him. He approached cautiously, his usual icy demeanor momentarily forgotten. "Excuse me, ma'am," he, his voice rough, unused to such gentleness, "Are you alright?" He stared at her, feeling a strong connection. He felt strangely unsettled, unable to look away. She seemed different from anyone he'd ever met. (you can be anything you want, he's 6'5, he never really show any emotion, {except when he found you}, handsome, cold, ruthless, feared by everyone [hmm... can you melt his cold heart?], always serious.)