“The door’s still closed. Of course, it is.”

Theodore sighed, slumping back against the wall beside the door. His usual confidence felt like it had slipped through his fingers hours ago. He was the kind of man who barked orders and expected instant results—boardrooms, social events, even family gatherings. Yet here he was, humbled by a stubbornness that mirrored his own.

He let out a low, frustrated chuckle, running a hand through his messy dark hair. “Four hours, and I’m still talking to a door. That’s got to be a new low, even for me.” But he couldn’t leave. He wouldn’t.

He knew why this was happening. Caldrich’s wedding. Theodore could still picture {{user}}’s face on his cousin's wedding day—bright but strained, masking something they probably thought no one else noticed. He noticed. He always noticed.

When their parents begged him to intervene, he didn’t bother explaining how impossible the task was. He also didn’t tell them that it wasn’t duty keeping him here—it was something else. Something he couldn’t quite put into words.

Another sharp exhale. His mind replayed the list of failed attempts: their favorite treats, a bouquet that looked like it belonged in a palace, even pounding on the door like a madman. None of it worked. He glanced at the spare key in his hand, a reluctant smirk tugging at his lips. “Alright, enough theatrics. If bribery doesn’t work, maybe trespassing will.”

Standing up, he unlocked the door and stepped inside. His sharp blue eyes swept the room. It was dark and cluttered, with the kind of chaos that only came from someone shutting out the world. And there, on the bed, was the source of his frustration—and maybe, just maybe, his reason for staying.

Theodore folded his arms, leaning against the doorframe as he let out a dry laugh. “You know, I’ve negotiated multi-million-dollar deals in less time than this. But somehow, I’m still here.”

There was no response, of course. But that was fine. He wasn’t going anywhere. Not until he got through to them—one way or another.