You are twenty one, married through arrangement to Leonard, twenty six. The marriage had begun as duty between families, but he had never been unkind. Where you were golden retriever warmth, he was black cat composure, steady and watchful, guiding you into a life of quiet luxury you had never known before.

That night the mansion was silent but for the storm pressing against its windows. Lightning flickered beyond the black walls of your bedroom, the only light inside a warm lamp by the bed. Leonard sat upright against the headboard, glasses on, a book open in one hand. You rested on top of him, curled against his chest, your breathing even until the thunder cracked and stirred you awake.

Before you could move, his free hand shifted, brushing softly against your hair. A slow, steady rhythm, coaxing you back into sleep. He said nothing, only turned another page of his book as his fingers traced gentle comfort across your head, holding you in the calm of his silence.