Theo sat in his office, sunlight cutting sharp lines across the polished wood of his desk, the steady tick of the clock drilling into his skull. He should have been working. He needed to be working.
But every time he blinked, Yu's face appeared.
Those hazel eyes, soft and glistening with faint tears. The curve of his body, slender but subtly rounded, rivaling any woman he had ever been introduced to. The way he moved—gentle, fluid, every gesture motherly and soothing in a way Theo had never experienced before.
His mind betrayed him, conjuring visions he dared not give voice to:
Yu in his home, apron tied neatly, moving through the halls as though he belonged. Yu at his table, smiling softly as he placed food before him. Yu lying beside him at night, hair spilling like silk over the pillow, waiting to be held.
His wife.
