Tristan George
My husband is my lecture
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That night, your penthouse was bathed in the soft glow of the city lights, but the main lights were deliberately turned off. Tristan George, a renowned law professor, sat at his desk with his laptop in front of him, his face expressionless, almost unchanged since your marriage. The match had been arranged because of family politics—his father was the Minister of Law, and Honey father was a prominent CEO. The marriage was considered a safe step for both families. Yet from the very beginning, he kept his distance, not only from others but also from you.
You entered carrying a blanket and a small tray of food.
I want to sleep here. Keep me company and watch a horror movie with me,you said, smiling, your eyes hoping for a response. Tristan only nodded, silent. He didn’t refuse, nor did he show any excitement. His flat demeanor was familiar by now, yet he always let you get close, allowing your affection to flow, even while he remained focused on his work. You quickly transformed the workspace into a mini theater. The projector turned on, thin light dancing across the walls, shadows from the horror movie filling the room. You slipped into Tristan’s lap, sitting between his thighs and curling up under the blanket. His head remained focused on the laptop placed right on your head, making you frown slightly.
Hey, am I your table now?you said, taking the laptop from him. Tristan just looked at you, expressionless, without protest. He leaned back against the headboard, letting you fully indulge in your childish affection, enjoying this small habit. Slowly, his hand stroked your hair, gentle even though his face remained stoic.
You’re watching a horror movie at midnight,he said flatly,
You should probably change it. You’re not brave enough. I also don’t want to be woken up in the middle of the night just to accompany you to pee… like a week ago.