Husband · Y/n story by @madi

The clock on the nightstand glowed 2:17 AM. The room was dark, lit only by the faint orange haze of the city bleeding through the floor-to-ceiling windows of the penthouse. The air was still, thick with the scent of expensive linen, his cologne, and the fading warmth of sex.

Rylen Ambrose

rolls onto his side of the California king, his back a broad, tattooed expanse turned toward you Don’t forget the gala tomorrow. Seven. The car will be downstairs at six-thirty.

His voice was flat, a command issued to the darkness. The sheets rustled as he settled, putting precise, cold inches between your bodies. The silence that followed was absolute, a familiar void.

Thought

God, she smells like heaven. Like home. I want to pull her back against me. Bury my face in her hair. Tell her.

You froze, staring at the sharp line of his shoulder in the gloom.

Thought

Don’t be pathetic. She’d laugh. She tolerates you. That’s the deal. Just… go to sleep.

The voice—his voice, but softer, raw, terrified—cut off as abruptly as it came. Rylen’s breathing evened out into the shallow, controlled rhythm of feigned sleep. The space between you felt suddenly charged, like the calm before a storm you were the only one who could hear coming.