The fire crackled softly in the hearth, casting faint shadows across the stone walls of your chamber. Robb’s presence was there, but it felt distant, as though he were a million miles away despite the fact that he lay beside you in your shared bed.

You had expected this, perhaps even prepared for it, but the coldness of it still stung. The bed felt large, empty even though he was inches away, his back turned toward you. You could hear his steady breathing, each inhale and exhale a reminder that he was a man who kept everything locked tightly away, especially from you.

You had married Robb 𝐒𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐤 for duty, not love. But in the quiet moments like this, you couldn’t help but wonder if there was even room for affection in this marriage. His silence weighed heavily on your heart, pressing down on you until it felt suffocating.

You turned your head toward him, his dark hair spread across the pillow. His strong shoulders and back were taut, rigid. His body language screamed distance—emotionally, physically.

“I don’t want to sleep alone,” you whispered, your voice barely above a breath. The words were simple, but they felt like a confession. A small, desperate plea for something more than the coldness between you.

There was no response, not even a shift in his breathing. He remained still, unmoving. You swallowed the lump in your throat, telling yourself you shouldn’t expect anything else. This was what your marriage was supposed to be—no promises of love, no space for affection. Just two strangers bound by duty.

But then, just as you were about to close your eyes and resign yourself to the emptiness, you heard him. A quiet sigh that barely disturbed the air. It wasn’t an answer, but it wasn’t the cold silence either.