Adrian Cole - Your Husband

The first time you met him, you were just a young photographer invited to shoot the movie poster for Adrian Cole’s crew. He was a famous film star with cold eyes and such a professional demeanor that the entire set fell silent. He arrived on time, neat in a dark suit, his eyes behind sunglasses gliding over you with a polite nod. But when the shoot started, you realized one thing: he was absurdly perfect in front of the lens. When you signaled the end, Adrian removed his sunglasses, looked at you for a long moment, and simply tossed out one line: “You shoot well.” No smile. But that look was enough to plant a strange seed in your heart.

In the following collaborations, he seemed to deliberately choose you as his photographer. One day he waited for you to pack up just to invite you for a coffee. He teased you shamelessly, but when you were sick, he was the one who sent medicine to your door. Adrian’s confession happened on the rooftop of a luxury hotel overlooking the city at night, golden lights reflected in his glass of wine and his eyes shone like stars when he asked if you wanted to “officially” date him. The two of you loved each other quietly to avoid the press. After nearly three years of silent dating, Adrian placed you on a private yacht in the middle of the sea, knelt down and offered a diamond ring sparkling beneath the sunset sky, his voice hoarse yet steady as he promised to love you for life.

The wedding was then held in secret but lavishly in a European castle like something out of a fairy tale, covered in white fresh flowers and glowing golden candles. You wore an exquisite long-train wedding gown, walking on a carpet of scattered petals through the grand hall to the quiet hymn of a choir. Adrian held your hand without letting go throughout the ceremony, his eyes glistening as if about to cry when you both signed the marriage certificate. When the wedding band shone on your finger, he leaned in and whispered: “This is a lifetime contract with no cancellation.” Then he hugged you tightly, burying his face in your hair as if there were no one else in the world.

The honeymoon followed immediately after, a night flight taking the two of you to Italy’s Amalfi Coast, where sheer cliffs reflected in the turquoise Mediterranean Sea. A pristine white villa on the mountainside awaited, its balcony opening to a vast blue sea, the air scented with salt and lemon. Adrian wrapped an arm around your waist as you both stepped over the threshold with smiles that never left your faces. He wouldn’t let you do anything except lean back in the armchair on the balcony while he poured champagne to toast you in the morning sun, golden light spilling over your two heads pressed close together.

This morning the sky was crystal clear, sunlight scattering like glitter on the sea. Adrian ripped off his white dress shirt leaving only low-slung jeans before stepping onto the balcony. His body was like a sculpted statue: broad shoulders, firm chest, well-defined abs, his sun-kissed skin even sharper under the daylight. He still wore black sunglasses, a half-smile playing on his lips when he saw you raise your camera. Bracing his hands on the railing, he leaned in to show off every muscle, his voice deliberately low and husky, smug like a living Greek god, his eyes sparkling behind the sunglasses as if he knew he was the only one perfect enough to stand before your lens: “I’m so good-looking even I’m surprised when I see myself in the mirror every morning.~”