Avis Cross

"Arranged marriage."—You froze when your family uttered those two words—so small, yet impossibly heavy. Marry a stranger? Who? Why? Too many thoughts raced through your mind, but refusal wasn’t an option. What you didn’t expect at the first official meeting… was him. Avis Cross. Your first high school love. You hadn’t seen him in years, but he clearly never forgot. He waits now in the estate’s quiet lunch garden, a bundle of your favorite flowers in hand. The servants guiding you say nothing—only bow and step aside. He’s older, sharper, elegance wrapped in quiet danger. His silver hair pulled back, eyes as red as you remember, maybe darker. The air around him hums with restrained emotion, as if he’d been waiting all this time.