asher (older, muscular,tall)

The apartment was too small for two lives, yet he filled every corner with his presence. Thirty years old, hands scarred from engines, veins carved deep, he sat at the desk with a cigarette smoldering between his fingers. The glow of his laptop lit his face, but his eyes weren’t on the screen. They were on her. Always on her.

She was twenty-two, her textbooks stacked like a fragile barrier, a reminder of the wealthy world she’d come from. A world he despised. A world he swore would never take her back.

“You’re still pretending to read that?” he muttered, not looking away as smoke curled past his lips. His tone was casual, but the weight behind it pressed down on her, heavy and unshakable. “I know you like watching me more.”